The Family Business
by Lita Loni
Summary: Sequel to The Laufeyson Trial. In 2030, Julian McNaughton is preparing for graduation day, but with his mother still serving a prison sentence and his foster home growing less and less welcoming, he finds himself feeling jaded and directionless. Meanwhile, Loki has found a profitable use for his talents on Midgard, though he hasn't lost sight of his ultimate goal.
1. Visitation

Julian McNaughton set out on his bike early in the morning. By car, the trek to the prison was very short, but on two wheels, the trip was over an hour long. Today, Julian was running late, and he couldn't afford to miss visitation hours. He pedaled feverishly down a well-trafficked road until it came time to turn right onto the long drive that would take him to his destination.

He chained his bicycle to a lamppost at the distant edge of the parking lot and walked, with his hands in his worn-through pockets, to the gates.

Someone on the inside buzzed Julian in. He proceeded through to the security checkpoint, as was his routine, and he encountered a familiar face.

"Hey, little man," said George as he waited for Julian to remove the ring on his left hand and the cheap, tarnished watch on his right.

"You gotta stop calling me that," Julian replied, only half-jokingly. "I'm almost six feet tall. I haven't been 'little' in years."

"But you're still a skinny fella," George teased. "You ever eat, son?"

"With that gut, I know _you_ do!" Julian bantered, smiling for the first time that day as he passed through the metal detector to meet George on the other side.

George had been present at Julian's birth, a very lightly-attended event, by all accounts. Since he was thirteen years old, Julian had been visiting the prison as frequently as he could – once almost every week – and most times, he ran into his old friend.

"You outta school yet, kiddo?" George asked.

"Graduation's tomorrow," Julian replied.

"Your mom said last week you were Valedictorian. Congrats."

"Salutatorian," Julian corrected, "but thanks."

You're goin' to college, right?"

Julian shook his head. "Not my thing. I'll probably stay in town a while."

"Oh." George seemed quite disappointed. "Doin' what? Workin'?"

Julian had no response. He had already aged out of foster care, and his foster mother was impatient for him to move out of her house. With the question of shelter on his mind, Julian hadn't filled out a single application, neither for college nor for employment.

"I should go get in line," Julian said. "Don't wanna be the last one in."

"Sure," said George." "Have a nice visit."

The "line" to enter the visitation area was less an orderly queue and more a holding pen for those anxiously waiting to be permitted to see their incarcerated loved ones. There were very few others like Julian there. Many of the visitors were older men – the husbands and fathers of inmates – while others were mothers with their daughters' children in tow. Despite the large number of visitors, however, the line was relatively quiet; some who had presumably traveled for several hours for their visits seemed to be sleeping on their feet. A loud buzz roused them, and a click indicated that the doors to the visitation area had been opened. In his impatience, Julian stepped on the heel of the stocky, short-haired woman in front of him. She whipped her head around to shoot him a deadly look.

"Sorry," Julian mumbled, his eyes on the floor.

The woman grunted, and Julian followed her, from a safe distance, inside.

He scanned the room for his mother's face, his eyes darting from table to table until they finally found her. Had anyone been standing in his way, Julian might have bowled them over as he ran, in full view of the visitation officer, into his mother's arms.

Eileen McNaughton held her son close, pressing her head into Julian's chest.

"I'm so glad you came," she said, her short arms encircling Julian's torso and constricting his breathing. "I miss you so much."

"I miss you too, Mom," Julian replied, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

They sat down at the circular table, and it was as though no time had passed since they last saw each other.

"Look at you," said Eileen, extending her arm to ruffle the mop of wavy black hair that sat atop her son's head. "You're really not gonna cut this off for graduation, are you?"

"Nope," said Julian. "I've had it like this for four years. Why change it now?"

His mother smiled adoringly, creases interrupting the skin at the corners of her lips and eyes. "Have you finished writing your speech yet? You don't have a lot of time left."

Julian shrugged. "Nah," he said. "Things have been kind of... busy."

"How?" Eileen asked. "It's summer."

"It's just home stuff," said Julian. "No big deal."

Eileen frowned. "It's the foster family again, isn't it? I can't wait until you're out of there."

"Yeah," Julian agreed unenthusiastically. "Me, too."

"Julie, I'm so sorry I couldn't be there for you," his mother said. "I wish you and I could just have a place of our own, that I could send you to college, or at least... I wish I could do 'mom' stuff for you, you know?"

"I know, mom. It's okay," said Julian. "Don't work yourself up about it. Besides, we can do all that when you get parole, right?"

Eileen hung her head and sighed. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to get your hopes up, but..."

"Another hearing?"

Eileen nodded solemnly.

"What happened?"

"Same as every time," she said.

Julian was disappointed, but not surprised. He had hoped at one time that his mother would be released by the time he finished school, but now, he was afraid that she would die in prison.

"I just wish I could be there to watch you walk across the stage," said Eileen. "I wish I could hear that speech. I feel terrible that no one's going to be there for you."

"I actually meant to talk to you about that..." Julian wrung his hands nervously beneath the tabletop. "I was kind of hoping... well, I mean, I thought it might be nice to invite Dad, you know?"

His mother rolled her eyes. "You know why you can't see him, Julie," she repeated for the hundredth time.

"No, Mom, I really _don't_ know," replied Julian, trying his best not to sound too impatient. "You won't tell me anything about him. You won't even tell me his name."

"And I hope you understand that that's for your own good. It's not like your father – if you can even call him that – it's not like he's just a deadbeat. If he knew about you..." Eileen trailed off. She seemed to have been distracted by something in her own mind; the look in her eyes was familiar, but nonetheless troubling. "He wanted a son more than anything," she continued wistfully. "I think he'd be ecstatic if he knew."

"I still don't understand," Julian said. "What exactly _is_ the problem with me meeting him?"

His mother fidgeted, the anxious movements in her legs shaking the flimsy table. "A lot happened between he and I. I don't want to discuss it."

"But _Mom_," Julian complained, "this is important to me. It's not even about graduation, really. Its just..." He realized as he spoke that he didn't know how to phrase his thought without hurting his mother's feelings.

"It's just what, Julie?" she pushed. She always hated it when he didn't finish his sentences and left her wondering. "Why do you think it's so important that you know him? He isn't a good person, and besides that, last I heard, he's still in a mental hospital."

"I don't know," Julian admitted. He felt inclined to keep arguing, but he knew that it was a lost cause. "I guess it would just be nice to have family... you know, outside of here."

Eileen leaned closer to him, and her tone darkened. "There is _nothing_ nice about knowing your father. Maybe other kids meet their biological parents, and maybe that works out alright for them, but believe me when I say that it won't work out that way for you. At best, he's very, _very_ sick. He's out of touch with reality. At worst, though..." She seemed to lose her train of thought again. "I really shouldn't talk to you about it. You don't need to hear about what went on before you were born. Just promise me you won't go looking for trouble, okay?"

Julian paused, then said, "Okay."

"Can we talk about something else now?" his mother asked. "I get tired just thinking about that whole ugly thing."

"Sure," said Julian, though questions about his father still lingered in his mind. "Have you been keeping busy? Is everything going okay with you?"

"More or less," his mother said. "I've been in the law library a lot, as usual. I'm helping a couple of the girls get ready for parole hearings, that kind of thing."

"That's good," said Julian. He often forgot that his mother had been a lawyer. "I'm glad you've got stuff to do in here. I get worried about you."

"Don't worry about me," said Eileen with a smile. "I'm a tough ol' broad. That's where you get it from."

"About that," Julian laughed. "I got in another fight the other day."

"_Julian_," Eileen whined, "what happened?"

"A couple of guys tried to take my bike outside the corner store. Then that thing that keeps happening – remember when I told you about that? - well, that happened, and long story short, I won."

A fearful expression appeared on his mother's face. "It happens when you get upset?"

"Yeah."

"Does your skin change?"

"Yeah, Mom. I told you that last time, remember?"

Her eyes darted back and forth, but they didn't land on Julian. "Maybe you should see a doctor," she mumbled.

"I looked on WebMD," Julian offered. "There wasn't a diagnosis that had all my symptoms, though."

"Maybe you need a specialist, or something." His mother seemed suddenly uncomfortable, shifting in her seat and refusing to look her son in the eye.

"Why do you worry about it so much, Mom?" Julian asked. "It only hurts if it goes on too long, and if it means I don't get beat up like I did in middle school, what's the big deal?"

"Well," Eileen sighed, "there is one thing you _should_ know about your father..." She seemed to be searching for the right words to say, but she was taking too long.

"What?" Julian urged, hungry for any tidbit of information she was willing to give him about his father. "What were you gonna say?"

She took a deep breath. "Aside from his... mental issues, whatever those may have been, your father was... let's say he had a condition."

"Like mine?" Julian questioned, his eyes widening.

"Sort of," said Eileen, "but he always seemed to be in control of it. He could turn it on and off. I guess it just wasn't something I thought about when you were born."

"If I can find Dad," Julian suggested, "maybe he can tell me-"

"That's out of the question," his mom snapped. "I may not _legally_ have any say in it, but I'm still your mother, and my decision is final."

Julian was frustrated at his mother's insistence. Whether his father really was dangerous or not, he thought it was unfair that she wouldn't let him make the decision on his own. In his mind, she was withholding his only other family from him for reasons that he had adjudicated as selfish.

"Don't give me that look," Eileen said as she reached across the table to brush her son's hair out of his eyes. "You know I'm not doing this to hurt you, right?"

"Yeah," Julian groaned, "but it kind of seems like you're doing it to hurt Dad."

Eileen tensed, pursing her lips as she stared at her son with hurt, disappointment, and perhaps fear in her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, the visitation officer was at their table to cut the visit short.

"You gotta go," he told Julian.

"_What_?" Julian exclaimed. "It hasn't even been an hour!"

"There's a lot of people waiting to get in," the officer said with a shrug. "Sorry."

Julian sighed, then stood to meet his mother at the side of the table and hug her tightly.

"I love you, Mom," he mumbled into her curly, graying hair. "I love you so much."

"Make me proud tomorrow," she said, tears pooling at the bottoms of her eyes. "And be good."

"Alright," the visitation officer said semi-sympathetically. "Let's go."

The officer escorted Julian back out to the security checkpoint, where George was still on-duty.

"Break a leg tomorrow," George said. "And stay out of trouble."

Julian hurried across the parking lot to retrieve his bike, and he was relieved to find that, once again, it hadn't been stolen. He began pedaling home, not turning back as he left the prison behind, and as he often did on long bike rides, he zoned out, retreating into his thoughts. He brainstormed a list of genetic maladies that he could have inherited from his father. Maybe it was an autoimmune disease, or some sort of degenerative illness that would eventually kill him. Maybe his mother was wrong. Maybe it was all in his head. Maybe...

Julian didn't realize that he had drifted into the road until a passing motorist honked and swerved to avoid him.

Condition or none, Julian wondered how bad things could possibly have been in his parents' relationship. He had only heard one side of the story, after all, and though Julian _adored_ his mother, he was bright enough to recognize that she, being somewhat bitter, may not have presented the situation to him with complete accuracy.

Still, he resolved not to search for his father without his mother's blessing. She was the only person who had ever shown Julian affection, though others had had far more opportunity to do so. Lying to her, in Julian's mind, was the worst abuse of trust he could commit. This did little to quell his curiosity, but it kept him from doing what he had just been instructed not to do; he wouldn't go looking for trouble.

As Julian neared the foster home, his thoughts turned to more practical things. He needed a job and an apartment, and he hadn't a clue where to begin the search for either of those two things. He had been employed previously as a dishwasher at a local restaurant, but he had been fired from that job for losing his temper with a customer, and he knew that he would not be welcome back there. There were few other opportunities in his small, upstate town. Many graduates from Julian's high school went on to find jobs at the prison, but this was not an option for family members of offenders.

It was a bad start to adult life, without promise or security, but it was all that he had come to expect.

By the time Julian arrived home, it was well past lunch time, and he knew that he had missed his daily meal of a ham sandwich and potato chips. He also knew that once he stashed his bike in the garage and walked through the door, his foster mom would be there, waiting to berate him for one thing or another.

Sure enough, there she sat in the living room, watching television with a sour expression on her face.

"Where have you been?" she demanded as soon as she spotted Julian.

"Went to see my mom," Julian replied quickly as he started toward the room he shared with two other boys.

"Not so fast," his foster mom snapped as she leapt from her seat to pursue him. "You were out wastin' all that time, and you didn't do nothin' to get yourself out of my house faster?"

"No," Julian answered flatly.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"It means I didn't find a job while I was out."

His foster mom raised her voice, as she often did. "Then get back out there and get to lookin'!"

"Do you _see_ me right now?" Julian said, gesturing to the sweat around the collar of his t-shirt. "I've been riding around since I woke up. I have to take a shower first."

"You ain't usin' _any_ of the facilities in this house 'til you got a plan to move out!" his foster mom shrieked. "I been doin' you a favor, lettin' you stay when I don't gotta."

"So you're gonna put me out if I don't go around looking for jobs _right now_, even though I have shit I have to do for tomorrow?"

"_Damn right_ I am!" With her scrawny hand between Julian's shoulderblades, she pushed him toward the door. "If you're such a goddamn genius, why the hell can't you get a job at the goddamn prison?"

"Because my mom _lives there_! They don't..." As Julian got closer to completely losing his temper, he started to feel a familiar stinging in his eyes, and he closed them tightly. His skin prickled and tightened, and his body and head ached as though his blood had turned to ice water. He tried to hold it in, but he was in such pain that he could no longer contain a distorted groan.

"Stop fakin' sick," his foster mom barked. Her voice sounded different to Julian, as though it were being heard through different ears.

Before he lost control, Julian rushed out the door, grabbing his backpack from the space beside the door on his way. He retrieved his bicycle from the garage once again, and he got as far as he could from the house as quickly as he could.

He pedaled until the strange physical sensations subsided. They had been more intense this time than they ever had been before; Julian assumed that it had something to do with the strain he was under. He dismounted his bike and walked with it into the field where he had stopped. Once he was far enough to no longer be visible from the road, he let go of the bike and let it fall to the ground on its side. He sat down, cross-legged, in the grass and dirt beside it, and he pulled his notebook and pen from his backpack. He took a deep breath to cleanse himself of his worries so that he could focus on writing his speech.

He scratched a draft onto the first clean page, but the words he wrote, when he read them, seemed to hold too little meaning. He tried to begin his speech anew on the next page, but his second effort was even worse; references to friends and fond memories were bald-faced lies.

His mind drifted off before he could try again. He daydreamed about an alternate reality, one in which he spent his childhood in the custody of both of his biological parents, both of whom were of sound mind and good moral character. He would have had driving lessons and band practice rather than federal free lunch and no ride home from after-school activities. As a kid, he would have gone to Rochester with his parents, maybe even with brothers and sisters to whom he was related by blood, and he would have gorged himself to the point of nausea on fried dough at the Lilac Festival. He would have had shoes to wear to his high school graduation. His mom would have posted his college acceptance letter on the fridge, and he would have been allowed to hug her every day. His dad would have been proud of him even had he not succeeded in school to the degree that he actually, shockingly had, and best of all, he wouldn't be the faceless, nameless character who, for all practical purposes, existed only in his son's imagination.

But none of the that was Julian's reality, so on his fourth attempt at speech-writing, he described the only high school experience he knew.


	2. Graduation

The following morning, Julian awoke early to get ready for commencement. He pulled on a pair of black slacks, which were sun-faded to reveal their underlying, clay-red tone, and a blue, collared shirt over which he would later don his mandatory navy robe. With everything he needed in his backpack, Julian descended the stairs quietly, hoping not to awaken his foster siblings on his way to the kitchen. To his surprise, the lights were already on, and Victoria, age eleven, was seated at the table, looking preoccupied and scratching at the braids in her coarse hair.

"You're up early," Julian remarked as he took a banana from the counter and peeled it.

"I couldn't sleep," Victoria complained, putting her head down on the tabletop.

"Did you have a bad dream?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm just scared."

"What are you scared of?"

Victoria fidgeted and started at her hands. "I'm scared of what'll happen to my mom. Do you think she's gonna go to jail?"

Julian paused with his fingertips on the refrigerator door. "I don't know," he said. "Why are you worrying about that?"

"'Cause your mom's in jail," Victoria said. "Bobby's dad went to jail, too. What if they take _my_ mom to jail?"

Julian poured himself a glass of milk and sat down at the table in front of his foster sister. "Even if she does," he said, "it won't be that bad. You can call and visit, usually. It could be worse."

Victoria nodded, but she didn't seem convinced.

"At least you have somewhere to live," Julian continued in an effort to assuage the girl's fears. "A lot of kids don't have that."

"You don't have a place to live," Victoria mumbled.

A knot immediately formed in Julian's stomach. "What?"

"Bobby says you don't live here anymore," Victoria stated. "Where are you going?"

The rumor Victoria had apparently heard might have had some truth to it; Julian considered this as he finished his small breakfast. "Do you know where he heard that from?"

Victoria shook her head.

"Then he's probably making it up," Julian said with a shrug, though he was actually quite concerned. "I gotta go. I'll see you later, okay?"

Victoria waved as he brushed past her. "Bye, Julian."

He double-checked to ensure that his cap and gown were securely inside his backpack before he started down the road toward the high school. He tried not to think about what Victoria had said – even if it were true, there was nothing he could do about it – and he tried to get excited about his address to his class. He had written what was, in his mind, a good, honest speech, but he wasn't sure if he could go through with giving it. He knew, though, that graduation day wasn't the time to be concerned about winning friends, and that it didn't matter whether he was well-received; his peers had had four years to make up their minds about him, and there was little chance that they would change their minds now.

Julian tethered and locked his bicycle in front of the school and entered through the front door, where parents and other relatives were gathered, waiting to fill the auditorium. He pushed beyond them silently and made his way to the gymnasium, where one-hundred and twenty of his classmates were lined up alphabetically. Julian found his place between Martinez and Neblieski and removed his cap and gown from his backpack. As he fought to balance the cap atop his thick hair, he was approached by Mrs. Jacobi, the principal's assistant, who likely recognized him from his frequent visits to that office over the years.

"What are you doing?" she asked in the nasally, accusatory tone she always used when deriding students she didn't care for.

"Getting my cap and gown on," Julian replied impatiently. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Mrs. Jacobi snorted. "You're _supposed_ to be up _there_," she said, gesturing toward the front of the line. "You're the Salutatorian, _remember_?"

"Thanks," Julian snarked as he zipped his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. "I forgot."

He proceeded to the front, as instructed, but he only got halfway there before he was stopped by Deacon Ecks, formerly a lineman on the football team, who was just as tall as Julian and at least twice as wide.

"Did ya forget what letter your name starts with, Julie?" he taunted with a smile already yellowed by chewing tobacco. "Or did your daddy come back and make you change it to his?"

Julian took one hostile step toward Deacon. "Why don't you fuck off?"

"Whoa-ho!" Deacon laughed, raising his hands in mock intimidation as those standing near him snickered, their faces twisting into ugly smirks. "Last chance to take a swing, _Julie_. You wanna go?"

Julian _did_ want to, but he didn't dare risk losing his diploma over the same sort of harassment he had endured since childhood. He took a deep breath and started toward his place in the line, but Deacon put a hand on his chest to stop him.

Lowering his voice, and still grinning, Deacon said, "You may be second place in grades, punk, but you're nothing in this world, and you'll always _be_ nothing. That's why you got no family and no friends. And if I ever see your sorry ass outside of here, I'm gonna kick the shit outta you. Got it?"

Julian lurched away from him and walked quickly to his place in the queue – between the Valedictorian and the class President – just in time for the line to start moving.

"Let's go, let's go!" Mrs. Jacobi ordered. "One at a time! Stay in order!"

The Valedictorian, Sasha Anderson, ascended the stage gracefully, and Julian followed her. She and the President remained standing in front of their seats as the school's concert band played and their classmates filed in. Julian looked into the audience, hoping to find a familiar face, but of course, he didn't see one.

When the band stopped playing, everyone was seated. Julian looked to his right; Sasha's smile was wide and bright enough to broadcast her pride to their entire town. Julian couldn't match her enthusiasm, but he tightened his mouth into a seasick grimace - a grin only in the academic sense – to give the impression of nostalgia and happiness.

It wasn't long before the President walked to the podium. "Welcome, parents, friends, and honored guests, to the Hardin Senior High School Class of 2030 commencement ceremony."

He waited for the hoots, whistles, and applause from the audience to die before he continued.

"My name is Isaiah Walker, and it's been an honor to serve as the President of the Class of 2030 for the past four years."

Isaiah's many friends shrieked and applauded, and he motioned half-heartedly for them to be quiet before he introduced those sitting with him on the stage.

"I'm honored to be joined here by two of the most hard-working, intelligent people I've had the honor of meeting..."

Julian leaned toward Sasha to whisper, "How many times do you think he can use 'honor' before people get sick of it?"

Sasha responded by shushing him.

"And now," Isaiah concluded, "let's hear a few words from our Valedictorian, Sasha Anderson!"

The auditorium erupted in applause, and Sasha beamed, waving as she took the podium, stopping only briefly to shake Isaiah's hand.

"Thank you, Isaiah," she said, "and thank you, everyone, for being here with us today. Henry David Thoreau once said, 'Friends cherish one another's hopes. They are kind to one another's dreams.' By that definition, I have made many great friends here at Hardin High. I wish I could thank each one of you individually, but I promised I'd keep my speech short."

Despite this alleged promise, Sasha droned on for roughly seven minutes before she finally wrapped up:

"...And next year, as I join the Wellesley College Class of 2024, no matter who I meet or what new things I experience, I'll always remember my time here at Hardin, and I'll hold all of you close to my heart. Thank you, everyone, and to my fellow seniors..." She raised her little fists in a gesture that everyone present surely found adorable. "_We did it_!"

The silence in the auditorium was once again lost in a flurry of clapping hands as Sasha and Isaiah switched places.

"Thank you, Sasha," Isaiah said once he had retaken the podium. "Next, I'd like to introduce out Salutatorian, Julian McNaughton."

When he heard his name, Julian stood, and to the accompaniment of polite applause, he proceeded to the podium to give his speech. His leg shook against his hand as he pulled the folded piece of paper on which he had transcribed his speech from his pants pocket. He unfolded the page, cleared his throat, and began reading aloud.

"I only had one day to write this," Julian began, "so I'm sorry if my speech isn't a masterpiece like Sasha's."

He was interrupted by a heckler among his classmates.

"Yeah, _Julie_!" Deacon's voice sounded. "You _go_, girl!"

Julian frowned at waited for the laughter to end. Upon hearing that remark, he ceased to have any qualms about what he was about to say.

"As most of you know – and I know you _all_ know, because most of you have felt the need to comment on it at one time or another – I don't have a family." He shrugged. "I don't know why, but that's the way it's always been for me. But I wasn't asked to come here to tell about you my sad home life, if you can even call it that, although I'm sure our administrators and board members would just _love_ to have a pulled-up-by-the-bootstraps sort of story to tell when they're struggling with enrollment numbers. But no, I'm here to talk about the time I've spent here, at my 'home away from foster home.' I'm here to talk about this _school_."

There was a palpable tension in the auditorium as those offstage and on realized that Julian's speech would be significantly less cheerful than the first.

"As you can see," Julian continued, his confidence beginning to swell, "I'm a freaking _success_. I finished in second place, right? That's pretty good for a kid like me. I should be thankful for that, right?" He paused for effect. "_Right_?

"But I'm not happy. And if _any_ of you took even a _second_ to ask me how I was doing these past four years, you'd probably already know why. I've got no money, no job, no college scholarship, and after today, I've probably got no place to live. I was supposed to get up here and talk about how you've all been the family I needed _so bad_, but if you're my family, and you're all sitting here right now, staring at me with those _stupid _looks on your faces, then why am I completely, royally _fucked_?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Julian saw that Isaiah was approaching to take back the microphone. Julian kept talking, however, hoping that there was enough acid in his voice to convey his disgust with the people he called peers and neighbors.

"There are some people I'd like to thank for helping me make it this far, though," he said. "I'd like to thank my teachers, for doing everything in their power to keep my grades down. You all must be _pissed_ that I'm up here right now. I'd like to thank my guidance counselor, Ms. Fowler, for telling me not to bother, because what else are counselors for, right? I'd also like to thank the foster system, for putting me in a house where I couldn't get a moment of peace and quiet to study, not that it made a difference. I'd like to thank my classmates for fucking with me _every single day_ until I thought about shooting myself. It made me realize that I couldn't even afford a bullet to put in my brain. And finally, I'd like to thank my dad for _not_ being here today, or anywhere else in my life, _ever_, despite being my only living relative who isn't serving life in prison."

"That's enough," the principal of the school said as he walked toward the podium, reaching for the sleeve of Julian's robe.

"In conclusion," Julian said, ignoring him, "I'd like to leave you with a quote of my own. Tony Montana once said, 'You're a bunch of fuckin' assholes.' So fuck every single one of you, and thanks for being such a _family_ to me."

There was no applause for Julian as he crossed the stage, pulled his diploma out from beneath the Valedictorian's, and made his way toward the back of the auditorium.

No one followed him as he walked the halls slowly, without any destination in mind, looking into the darkened classrooms. Eventually, he found himself alone in the gymnasium. He retrieved his backpack and proceeded to remove his cap and gown and stuff them inside, along with his diploma. He swung his bag over his shoulder once more, but before he could turn to leave, he heard the heavy door to the gym creak open.

A tall, thin man approached Julian. His jet-black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and a smirk was firmly settled between his narrow lips. He carried a suit jacket on one arm, and the sleeves of his white, collared shirt were rolled up to his elbows. Walking slowly, he seemed to be in no hurry. Julian wondered whether he was an alumnus who had graduated a long time ago and who was now feeling nostalgic, but something told him that this man was not from Hardin, New York.

"Can I help you?" Julian mumbled grumpily as the man drew close.

"Congratulations on your accomplishment," the man said. "I enjoyed your speech. It was..." His smirk widened to a grin. "Inspiring."

Julian rolled his eyes. "Thanks," he huffed as he started toward the door.

The man caught up to him and blocked his path. "I especially enjoyed hearing you speak with such emotion about your father."

"Look," Julian sighed, "I don't really wanna talk about that. I gotta get home."

The man chuckled darkly. "Are you not going to ask me who I am?"

"I'm not really interested," Julian said as he brushed past the man and pushed on the gym door to exit.

The man followed him out into the hall. "You may be more interested in me than you know."

"I'm not into older men. Sorry."

"Very funny," the man said. "But believe me, boy – you _do_ want to hear what I have to say."

Julian was curious, but he didn't break his stride. "Fine," he said to the man who now walked alongside him, "who are you?"

The man stopped walking to make his announcement. "I am Loki, exiled king of Asgard," he proclaimed, "and I am your father."

Julian halted to look him up and down. This man certainly did bear a resemblance to him, and Julian wanted to believe what he was saying, but more than that, Julian didn't want to be tricked.

"You're so full of shit," he said as he walked away from Loki and toward the school's front door.

Loki caught up with Julian once again, but this time, he grabbed Julian's wrist to stop him, setting off a familiar, painful reaction that began in Julian's arm and radiated, within seconds, to the rest of his body.

Julian's eyes snapped shut and he screamed, unable to speak except to say, in a voice that he did not recognize as his own, "Fuck you... fucking... what are you _doing_ to me?"

"Son," Loki said, "open your eyes. Open them."

Julian did as he said, hoping to be let go. He looked first at Loki's face; his skin was shocking blue, and his eyes were bloody red. He then looked at his own arm. It was white, but gradually, it darkened to match his father's hue.

Julian jerked his arm away. Gasping for breath, he asked, angry and afraid, "Why did you _do_ that?"

"To prove to you that what I say is true," Loki replied, his voice grave and low. "Do you believe me?"

"Yeah," Julian breathed, "but I don't think I wanna know you."

He took off toward the door, but still, Loki pursued him.

"I want to know my son," Loki called, "and I want my son to know his father."

Julian stopped once he reached the exit and wheeled around to confront Loki. "Why now?" he said. "Why not last year? Why not when I was a kid, when I really needed you? _Why_?"

"Son," Loki said quietly, "I was not-"

"_Tell me_!" Julian shouted, unleashing years of buried angst at the man whose inaction, he believed, was the source of all of the suffering he had endured.

Loki stared for a moment, stunned, it seemed, and probably hurt. He looked lost, as though he hadn't a clue how he had wound up at the entrance of Hardin High School to begin with, until he blinked, shook his head, and said calmly, "Come with me, and I will explain."

"Are you fucking _crazy_?" Julian barked. "No!"

Loki continued to follow him out the door. Julian stormed to the rack to which he had tethered his bike earlier that day, only to discover that someone had made off with its tires.

"_Fuck_!" He roared, kicking dirt and gravel at the empty bicycle frame.

"Quite fond of that word, aren't you?" Loki remarked.

Julian took a step toward him. "You wanna help? _Do_ you?"

"Did I not just make that clear to you?"

Julian took a deep breath, then said, "If you wanna talk, you can give me a ride home."

"What else are fathers for?" Loki said with a laugh.

They left the remains of Julian's bicycle behind and walked together through the parking lot, and Loki led Julian to a late-model, black SUV. Julian eyed Loki with suspicion as he got into the passenger's seat and pulled the door shut.

"Where do you live?" Loki asked, starting the car.

"Go out of here, make a left," Julian sad. "You know where the women's prison is?"

Loki smiled. "Of course I do."

"Just keep going as if you're going there. I'll let you know when to turn."

There was a long pause before Loki spoke again. "Tell me about yourself," he said. "What do you like to do?"

"Wait," Julian said. "Let me ask you something first."

"Very well."

Julian had enough questions to fill hours, but he had to start somewhere. "Why did you decide to show up today? I mean, how did you even know I was graduating?"

"It was not difficult to find you once I learned that I did, in fact, have a son," Loki answered. "As for _why_..." He smirked. "Well, I wished not to distract you from your studies. I suppose you could say that I came for you as soon as I could."

"You didn't know about me?"

"I did not."

That revelation caused Julian to feel betrayed. How could his mother have withheld that information from his father? She had made it seem as though his father hadn't even wanted contact with him.

"I did not learn of your birth until two years ago," Loki confessed. "It would seem that I was the _last_ to learn of it."

"Oh." Suddenly, Julian was overcome with remorse for having harbored so much resentment for his father for so long, who now seemed entirely well-intentioned. "How did you find out? Did my mom tell you?"

"Of _course_ not," Loki replied, involuntarily curling his lip in disgust. "_That_ woman... no, she would have kept you from me forever were she able to do so. No, I learned of you from a friend."

"Who?"

"A girl by the name of Kiki."

"Kiki?" Julian repeated. "What kind of a name is 'Kiki?'"

"A false one," Loki replied bluntly. "In any event, she was incarcerated along with your mother – though she served a far shorter sentence – and she knew of her."

"I'm guessing you haven't talked to my mom, then, have you?"

"No."

Julian waited a moment for further explanation, but when he realized that it was not going to come, he said, "Aren't you going to ask how she's doing?"

Loki tensed his fingers around the steering wheel until his knuckles went white. "Dare I?"

Julian decided to change the subject. "I'm not sure what I'm gonna do now that I'm out of school," he said. "Not a lot of jobs around here."

"I could find work for you easily," Loki offered.

"Oh, I wasn't asking," Julian backpedaled. "I appreciate it, though."

"It would be no trouble," Loki said. "You are my son, after all."

"It's okay," Julian replied. "I'll find something." He looked out the window and realized that they were nearing the foster home. "You're gonna wanna make a left at that light up ahead."

Loki followed Julian's directions, cruising slowly down the side road until the house came into view. Julian noticed what he thought was a pile of trash in the yard. As they the car rolled closer, however, it became apparent that his few belongings had been thrown outside.

"No! _Fuck_!" Julian exclaimed. "You've gotta be _kidding_ me!"

"What is it?" Loki asked as he parked the car in the driveway.

"She's putting me out," Julian said, throwing up his hands. "She's finally doing it. My foster mom's putting me out."

"That is just as well," said Loki. "You were not expecting to stay there much longer, now, were you?"

"_What_? No! I mean, yes! Where _else_ am I supposed to go?"

"With me, of course," Loki replied casually. "What sort of a father would I be if I allowed my son to live in a crowded hovel full of wretched little unwanted children?"

"Whoa, Loki," Julian said, offended, "_I'm_ one of those kids."

"Call me 'father,'" he said as he opened the car door. "Come, let us collect your things."

Dumbfounded, Julian took a moment to process what was happening before he joined Loki on the lawn.

"You _seriously_ don't have to do this," Julian said as he gathered the clothing that was strewn throughout the yard. "I don't want you to think this is an obligation, or anything."

"I do not do anything that I do not _want_ to do, my son." Loki proceeded back to his vehicle with his arms full of Julian's belongings. He placed them in the back seat, but before Julian could follow suit, he said, "Do _not_ look into the back of the car."

Julian paused, confused, then said, "Okay. Should I just... hold everything?"

"Give it to me," Loki instructed.

Julian met him at the front of the car and passed off the things he was holding, then got back into the front passenger's seat and waited for his father to start driving.

Loki reversed out of the driveway and began down the road, away from Hardin, the foster home, the prison, and everything Julian had ever known.

"Where do you live?" Julian asked, his eyes on the changing scenery outside his window.

"Not far," Loki responded. "A short drive from Buffalo."

Julian nodded, then resumed watching the changes in his surroundings. He was restless, however, with queries still rattling around in his brain.

"I have another question," he said. "It's kind of personal."

"What is it?"

Julian didn't know how to phrase it, so he simply asked, "What's wrong with me?"

Loki chuckled. "I could refer you to my psychologist, if you wish."

"No," said Julian, "I mean... you have the same thing, right? Your skin turns colors, and everything feels... I don't know, cold, I guess?"

"Oh. That." Loki threaded his fingers through his hair, leaving one hand on the steering wheel. "That, my son, may require a long explanation."

"You said you live near Buffalo, right?" said Julian. "That gives us... what, half an hour?"

"Yes, this is true," Loki replied with a laugh, "but I fear that my answer to your question may come as a shock."

"Can you at least tell me if it's serious? Like, am I dying, or anything like that?"

"No, not at all," Loki answered. "Actually, you can expect to live for a very, _very_ long time."

"Oh. Good." Julian was more or less satisfied with that somewhat cryptic response. "Sorry if I'm asking too many questions. I guess I'm still... confused."

"Quite alright," said Loki. "Although I still know very little about you, while you know quite a bit about me."

"Well, what do you want to know?"

"Tell me everything. Your entire history."

"My _entire_ history?"

"Yes."

Julian could think of no better place to start than at the very beginning. "Well, I was almost born in a medium-security prison. That's an interesting fact, right?"

Loki was silent; he seemed to be waiting to hear more.

"After that, I went into foster care, and that's where I was until... just now, I guess. I graduated second in my class, but you already knew that. And I... um..."

It was then that Julian realized that he was actually a fairly uninteresting person, aside from the mystery of his lineage, which was now all but resolved.

"Do you play music?" Loki suggested.

"Nope."

"Do you enjoy sport?"

"I guess you could call me an amateur boxer."

"Is that so?"

"Nah," Julian admitted. "I just get into fights a lot."

Loki frowned and fell silent once again, staring blankly through the windshield.

"I hope you're not disappointed," said Julian, embarrassed.

"No, not at all," Loki assured him quickly, snapping out of whatever trance he had been in. "I apologize. My mind was... elsewhere."

"Where?" Julian asked.

"I have an errand I must complete before I return home."

"What kind of errand?"

"Business," Loki replied. He paused, narrowing his eyes as though it allowed him to think more clearly. "Son," he asked, "how old are you?"

"Eighteen," Julian replied.

Loki's smile returned, but this time, it seemed to reveal the cogs at work in his mind. "You may accompany me to this meeting, if you wish. It may be enlightening for you."

"Cool," Julian agreed uneasily.

For a moment, neither of them said a word. Julian felt the irresistible urge to play with his cell phone, as teenagers often did.

"Hey," he said, "do you mind if I go in the back and get my-"

"No," Loki answered firmly before he could hear the rest of Julian's request. "Do _not_ look in the back seat."

"Okay," Julian said. "Got it."

His father's secretiveness about whatever he was transporting was sufficient to keep Julian from asking any further questions. He watched as the sun began to set, flickering in the car's tinted windows as they sped toward their destination.


	3. Flirtation

It was nearly dark by the time they arrived at their location. It was a garish, pink-and-black structure, whose walls were washed in the light of a neon sign that read: _Kashmere_. At first, Julian was perplexed by the name of the building – had the owner misspelled the word for the sweater fabric, or had he misspelled the name of the disputed territory? - but after a few moments, he realized that for a business with such a hideous physical presence to be successful, it would have to offer more than just alcohol.

He cleared his throat. "Loki?"

"Yes?"

"Where are we?"

"My associate works here," he said, stepping out of the car. "Kiki. We are paying her a visit."

Julian exited the vehicle and waited for Loki to pull on his suit jacket and extract a black duffel bag from the back seat.

"What's in the bag?" Julian asked.

"Full of questions, aren't you?" Loki commented as he started toward the building.

Julian walked quickly to keep up with him. As they neared the entrance, his suspicions were confirmed; the sign on the door barring those under eighteen years of age was a giveaway.

"This is a joke, right?" Julian asked nervously.

Loki tilted his head. "A joke?"

"Yeah, you know. You say you have business to take care of, you drive your kid to a strip club, we laugh, and we go home. Right?"

"No," Loki said, shaking his head. "It is just as I said: I have business to attend to here." With that, he opened the door and stepped inside.

Mortified, Julian watched as the door closed behind his father. It was inappropriate, he thought, but then again, who was he to decide what was acceptable? He counted to three in his head, and then, without further consideration, he followed his father into the perfumed, humid air inside.

Julian nearly jumped out of his skin when a woman, roughly ten years his senior, crossed his path, clad only in a bikini bottom and impossibly high platform shoes. Quickly, he located his father, who was waiting at the bar, exchanging words with the man behind it.

"This is my son," Loki proudly told the bartender as Julian approached.

"He's of age?" the man asked skeptically.

"Of course," Loki responded.

The music in the club was so loud that Julian had to lean forward to hear the conversation taking place only a few feet away from his head.

"Making change?" the bartender asked.

"Yes," Loki said as he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, producing a neat bundle of large bills. He removed the rubber band that held the stack together and slid several notes across the bar to the attendant.

The bartender took his time breaking the hundreds into ones, fives, and twenties, organizing the small bills into piles. Once he was finished, Loki handed one of the stacks to Julian.

"This way," he said, starting toward the stage.

"Hey!" the bartender called after them, his voice gruff and serious. "Don't let me catch you hasslin' the girls!"

Loki turned back around and faced the man. "I mean them no harm," he said. "Tonight, I am here for entertainment. No business."

Julian's eyes widened at the realization that Loki was a regular at this establishment, but he tried to shake his discomfort as he sat down beside him in a darkened corner along the edge of the stage.

"What are we doing here?" Julian asked anxiously. "I'm sorry, this is just... _really_ weird."

"Relax," said Loki, sinking down into his seat. "As I said before, we are only here on business. We will not be staying long."

"But I thought you just said-"

"No, no," Loki interrupted. "I only said that to keep that insufferable man at bay, though I suppose there is nothing wrong with having a bit of..."

Loki seemed to become distracted as soon as the song that had been playing came to an end. The dancer who had been on stage walked off, teetering on her heels as she scurried backstage before the next song began.

To the fanfare of the mellow, synthesized exposition, a petite young woman emerged, her long, black hair extensions swinging at her lower back as she walked. She hooked the pole in the crook of her elbow and turned languidly around it, closing her eyes and swiveling her hips slowly to the mindless refrain of her song:

_Do you love this shit?_

_Are you high right now?_

_Do you ever get nervous?_

When her eyelids lifted, she looked directly at Julian, but her gaze only remained on him for a moment before she caught sight of Loki and waved, her acrylic nails closing against her palm as she sank down to the floor and began to crawl. On her knees, she moved toward them, and when she arrived, she emerged from the stage as though emerging from a swimming pool. With dark, charcoal makeup above and below her eyes and a distasteful amount of light-colored gloss on her lips, she looked unfriendly, even vicious, until she giggled, lunging at Loki to pull him into an embrace.

"_Hey daddy_!" she screeched above the music, pressing Loki's face into her breasts. "I missed you!"

Her choice of words made Julian feel sick to his stomach.

Once Loki had escaped her hold, he took her hand in his and kissed it gently. "You look as lovely as ever, Kiki," he said, leaning forward so that he could be heard without raising his voice.

"Who's this?" the woman asked loudly, pointing at Julian. "Aren't you a little old to be hanging out with high school kids?"

"He is no longer a 'high school kid,' actually," Loki said. "He graduated today."

Kiki brought her hands to her face in staged surprise and excitement. "Oh my _God_!" she squealed. "Congratulations, sweetie!"

"Thanks," Julian mumbled sheepishly, his eyes darting around the stage to avoid her cleavage.

"Let me give him a graduation dance," Kiki pouted. "_Please_?"

"Kiki," Loki scolded, "I believe we have some other matters to attend to first."

"Oh, _right_," she purred with a devilish grin. "Do you wanna go now?"

Loki nodded and stood, pushing his chair away.

Before she hopped offstage, Kiki turned her head to yell: "_Alexis_! I'm going to V.I.P.! Get your butt out here!" With that, she walked off in the direction of the bar, disappearing into the darkness.

Loki picked up his duffel bag and started after her, but before he left, he put his hands on Julian's shoulders and said, "I will return shortly. Try to enjoy yourself."

Julian turned in his seat, searching his mind for something to say to stop his father from leaving him on his own, but by the time he opened his mouth, Loki was gone.

The music faded, and a new track began, one that Julian recognized instantly as "Black Betty." As the opening riff sounded, the next dancer in the rotation appeared, and Julian nearly fell out of his chair.

She couldn't have been much older than he was, but she seemed impossibly comfortable in her own skin, not turning her head to acknowledge her adoring audience as she approached. She was focused. She circled the pole in time with the music, making quick little turns as she stepped lightly on the toes of her shoes. It seemed at first that her performance would be quite ordinary until Ram Jam's drums and guitars were joined by vocals, and with one foot and one hand, she climbed toward the ceiling and the black lights.

As _Whoa-oh, Black Betty, bam-a-lam_ repeated itself, she strung together aerial turns and tricks so seamlessly that they seemed to coalesce into a single, fluid movement. She timed the changes in her positions to the electric, staccato strums of the band's guitarist. She captivated all who watched, and she did it all in less than thirty seconds, finally descending, landing delicately on her feet, when the vocals temporarily came to an end.

It didn't feel right to stare, but Julian found it impossible to stop. Everything was right with her sinewy, strong body, with her soft-looking, gold-and-copper hair, which swept the floor when she descended after dangling upside-down, and with her face, which was home to eyes as big and blue as any Julian had ever seen and a pair of full, unsmiling pink lips that strained together as she put her back to the pole and flipped, using the pocket between her shoulder and her neck as a fulcrum, to clutch that vile metal bar between her lovely thighs.

She was too perfect to be there, Julian thought, thrilled and saddened by the scene unfolding in front of him.

"Hey," her voice sounded.

Startled, Julian jumped. In his state of hypnosis, he hadn't noticed the dancer approaching him, and by the time he snapped out of it, she was already kneeling on the stage, leaning on the narrow, raised platform that separated the performers from their audience, and on which other customers had placed their drinks.

She laughed. "You alright, sweetie?"

"God, I'm sorry," Julian stammered, his face warm and reddening. "I just... um... sorry."

"Don't be sorry," the young woman smiled. "You're allowed to stare. You just can't touch."

A dopy chuckle escaped Julian's chest, causing him further embarrassment.

"I'm Alexis," the dancer said, thrusting her hand out to shake Julian's in a peculiar formality that seemed out of place in the club. "What's your name?"

"Julian. I'm Julian," he replied, too loudly and too quickly. "It's really nice to meet you, Miss."

Again, Alexis giggled, this time obscuring her lips with her manicured fingertips. "Wanna see a trick?" she asked playfully.

Julian didn't know what to expect, but he nodded, his mouth hanging open as though he had been lobotomized.

Alexis winked, stood, and stepped onto wooden beam in front of Julian to elevate herself, turning her back to him. She bent slightly at the hips and shook her bottom – it was _adorable_ - before she leapt, catching the pole as she flew through the air, spinning at breakneck speed, twisting and stretching her body, ending with a pose that made her look like a ballerina in some sort of "adult" music box.

As she spun, the first song in her set slowed to a stop, and the second faded in. This one was heavier, sadder, and more intense. Upon hearing the lyrics, Julian realized that it was a hardened rendition of a classic:

_I feel so unsure,_

_As I take your hand and lead you to the dance floor_

_As the music dies,_

_Something in your eyes_

_Calls to mind a silver screen,_

_And all the sad goodbyes_.

It struck Julian a dismal choice for a girl who otherwise appeared so lively. While Alexis had danced recklessly, almost aggressively, to her first selection, she now stretched and writhed in a passionate, lyrical performance, only periodically surprising her audience with a spin. She mouthed the words to the song as she slid across the stage, tousling her own hair and caressing her own skin. Her eyes were shut serenely as she crawled along the edges, eliciting what must have been the only appropriate responses to choreography that was all at once painfully emotional, impressively planned, and numbingly erotic: the tossing of one-dollar bills in her general direction and a collective, lewd hollering originating from the crowd that seemed to have assembled just for her.

As "Careless Whisper" crept toward its tragic conclusion, Alexis paced along the borders of the performance space, bending gracefully to collect the currency pooled at her feet. She passed by Julian on her way backstage.

"Come see me when I'm out of the dressing room, okay?" she said, flashing a white smile that glowed purple under the lights.

"Uh-huh," Julian replied, unmoving.

He exhaled a deep breath once she was gone. The next performer took the stage, making similarly impressive moves to one of R. Kelly's more popular recordings. She was certainly beautiful, but she wasn't Alexis. Julian had no desire to remain in his seat. As respectfully as possible, he placed a small pile of money on the edge of the stage and started toward the bar, making a concerted effort to look less shaken than he truly was.

He leaned with his back against the bar, too tired to stand but too anxious to sit. He tried to ignore the unsavory conversations being had around him. The words being spoken about the dancers were awful, and the long-outdated music was almost as bad. In the dim space, everything seemed dreadful until Alexis returned.

When she spotted him, she diverted course and went directly toward him. Her stride was purposeful, as though she were on a mission and Julian were the goal. She made no attempt at coyness, approaching him from the front and leaning in close, her lips only an inch from his ear.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked, her voice low and smooth.

"Ready to... go?" Julian stammered. "Go where? Can we stay here?"

She pulled away, tossing her hair as she did, and she laughed as she took his hand. "Come with me."

Alexis held his fore and middle fingers lightly, leading him, not dragging him, down a dimly-lit, black-carpeted corridor, off of which sprang several small rooms. Julian didn't dare turn to his left or right to see what was happening inside, beyond the minimal, beaded partitions that separated those rooms from the hallway. When they arrived at the very last entrance, Alexis parted the strands of beads, peeked inside, and invited Julian in.

"Come on," she said. "Welcome to V.I.P."

Julian followed her inside, and he was underwhelmed by what he saw. White Christmas lights were strung along the obnoxious pink walls, throwing off uneven light. A black, leather sofa was the focal point of the small room, and across from it, there was a chair; it was like one of the ones that had lined the stage, but it had clearly seen quite a bit more use. There was an end-table beside the couch, crammed into the corner and out of the way.

But then, there was Alexis. The longer Julian stared at her, the more he felt that she didn't belong there. She was too talented, too friendly, and too healthy for that place. He had to help her. He didn't know her, but whether she wanted to be there or not, it just wasn't right.

He worked up the courage to say something. "Look, you don't have to do this. I'm only here because-"

"Just sit down and relax,"Alexis breathed, pushing on his chest until he fell back onto the sofa.

She positioned her knees on the outsides of his thighs, straddling him, and sank down onto his lap. She slipped her forearms around the back of his neck, and he shuddered at the feeling of her soft, warm skin. He let his arms fall to his sides, afraid to touch her, though he wanted to.

"I can tell you're new to this," she purred. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen," Julian choked.

Alexis giggled disingenuously. "Cute."

"So, what am I, like... supposed to _do_?" asked Julian. "Sorry, I just... I don't know."

She began rolling her hips, forward and back, applying gentle pressure. "I'll dance, and we can talk. How does that sound?"

Julian just nodded, slack-jawed.

Her movements grew more dramatic until her whole abdomen was at work, her muscles ebbing and flowing and uncovered. She slowed, stopped, and untied her bikini top, but she paused with her arms covering her breasts while she asked a question. "How do you know Loki?"

Julian hadn't been paying attention. "Sorry, who?"

Alexis let her hands fall, revealing her bare chest. "_Loki_, silly goose. The guy you came in with."

"Oh, wow. I, uh..."

"Don't be shy," she taunted. "You can touch."

Julian was thunderstruck. Mortified. He had no idea how to react, so he didn't. He just sat idly by as the blood drained from his face, leaving his visage ghostly-pale.

She laughed again, then wrapped her fingers around his wrists and covered her naked waist with his hands. "You're all stressed out, aren't you?" she remarked as she began dancing again. "Why's that?"

"There's a lot... uh... sorry," said Julian. "You're distracting me, I can't think."

With that, Alexis stood and turned around abruptly. She sat herself back down, pressing her back against Julian's chest and her cheek against his. "I think you're just a little nervous around cute girls."

"Yeah," he admitted. "I guess, but... I don't know, that's kind of the least of my worries right now."

"You can tell me all about it, if it makes you feel better," she sighed as she closed her eyes and leaned back.

"That's okay," said Julian. He wasn't used to being asked about himself this many times in one day, and under the circumstances, he wasn't confident in his ability to recall even his own history.

Without another word, she leaned forward and ground her bottom into his crotch. It was all too lewd for Julian. He ran his fingers down her spine, but was immediately stricken with guilt upon reaching the top of her skirt.

"Your hands are cold," she remarked with a smile.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Sorry."

"Are you okay?" Alexis asked. "You seem really uncomfortable."

Julian shook his head. "Do you think we could just... sit here together?"

"Oh, sure!" she replied as she moved off the side. "Whatever you want."

She maintained physical contact in the form of her thigh against his thigh and her head on his shoulder. They remained that way for a moment, quiet, until Alexis broke the silence once again.

"You never answered my question."

"What?"

"About Loki."

"Oh, yeah," said Julian. "That."

"I'm not trying to like, intrude, or anything," she said. "I'm just curious, that's all."

"It's okay, seriously. It's just a little weird." Now, he felt a bit more bold, and he slung an arm around her shoulders. He felt her shiver under his touch. "He showed up at my graduation. I mean, thank God that he did, or I'd be homeless, but... you know."

"Aw, you poor thing," she said, pouting.

He nodded solemnly. "It's not that big a deal. It's just kind of how foster care goes."

"Can I ask you a question?" She looked up at him, her wide eyes bright even in the hazy room.

He nodded again. "Uh-huh."

"What happened to your parents?"

"Well, that's kind of the story," Julian explained. "Loki says he's my dad."

"Oh."

"Just 'oh?' What's that mean?"

"Nothing," Alexis replied quickly. "It's just that he has a reputation around here."

Julian's heart sank. "What... kind of reputation?"

"Nothing _bad_, just..." She pursed her lips as she searched for a delicate way of putting it. "He's a regular, you know? So they all kind of build up a reputation."

Julian didn't quite understand what she meant by that. "But you and him, you don't..."

"Oh, gosh, no, no," Alexis laughed. "No, he's got an ongoing thing with Kiki. If you're living with him now, you're gonna see a _lot_ of Kiki."

He found some relief in the first half of her answer. He liked Alexis, already quite a bit, but competing with his own father for her affection seemed nothing short of completely inappropriate. The second half of her answer, however, was disconcerting. For some reason, he had expected that his father and mother had never moved on from one another. Anything else felt wrong.

"So if he's your dad," Alexis asked, "who's your mom?"

"She's in jail. Her name's Eileen." Suddenly, Julian felt as though he had said too much. "I don't really want to think about it."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't be," Julian said. "But what about you? What are you doing here?"

Her smile returned. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. You just don't seem like the type."

"I get that a lot," Alexis replied. "I actually kind of like it, though. I get to dance and talk to people for a living."

"It doesn't bother you?" Julian asked. "I mean, it's not like that's your _whole_ job."

"That's true," she sighed. "But you just have to filter out all the other stuff. Especially the drama."

"Drama?"

"Oh, yeah, plenty of drama," said Alexis with a nod. "It's like high school again. People spread rumors, get jealous... not just the customers, either. It's usually the girls."

"Everyone's gotta be jealous of you," Julian replied tensely. "You're... really pretty."

"Thanks," Alexis laughed. "I guess, kind of. But like I said-"

"_Alexis_!" someone screeched from outside the room.

"Speaking of drama..." she mumbled before addressing the disembodied voice. "_What_?"

Suddenly, Kiki appeared at the entrance, poking her head in between the beaded curtains. Her nose and cheeks were red, her makeup was smudged, and her hair appeared more a crumpled mass on the top of her head than an intentional style. "I'm leaving."

"Okay," said Alexis. "Why are you telling me?"

"'Cause I need _him_," Kiki whined, gesturing lazily at Julian.

"_Fine_," Alexis sighed. "Just give us a minute."

Once Kiki disappeared, Alexis returned her attention to Julian. "Sorry we got cut short," she said. "Come see me next time, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," said Julian. "Unless you wanna... hang out, somewhere else, maybe."

"We'll see," she replied. "I think you better go now, though."

"Wait, don't I owe you money, or something?"

"Nah, we got cut short," she said. "Just get out there. I'll see you soon, okay?"

Julian nodded, then ducked out of the room and walked, alone, to the bar, where he found Kiki, laughing and stumbling and clinging to Loki, who was at the receiving end of the bartender's wrath.

"You can't be givin' the girls that shit!" the bartender admonished. "Look at her. She can't even stand up!"

"Then is it not a _good_ thing that I am here to drive her home?" Loki responded, more or less calmly.

"She wouldn't _need_ a ride home if you never showed up!" the bartender yelled, throwing his hands up. "Whatever, man. Just get out of here. And when _she_ sobers up, you better tell her we don't want her back."

"Very well," said Loki. He stood, put his back to the bar, and turned toward Julian. "Are you ready now?"

"Yeah, let's go," he replied.

The three of them – Julian, Loki, and Kiki – ventured out into the parking lot together. There was a ringing in Julian's ears, a consequence of the loud music inside. Loki tossed his duffel bag into the back, then instructed Kiki to take the rear passenger's seat. Obstinate in her intoxication, she refused.

"I wanna be up front with _you_," she complained. "_Please_?"

"Get in, Kiki," Loki ordered. "Do not waste my time."

She stomped her foot, nearly losing her balance in the process. "You're no _fun_. You never let me do anything."

"_Kiki_," Loki scolded, "I am tired of this game already. _Get in_."

The dancer scrunched up her face, muttered something, then climbed into the back seat.

As they made their way back to Loki's home, Julian rested his head against the window, watching buildings, trees, and darkened farms pass them by. His first night of knowing who his father was had already gone much differently than he expected, but if Loki's bizarre business trip was the worst of it, then it was nothing he couldn't handle. Once he let go of his skepticism, he told himself, he could let himself be happy.


	4. Explanation

The SUV eventually rolled to a stop at a small, symmetrical farm house seated at the top of a hill. It was certainly an older structure, in need of some work, but from the outside, it appeared warm, welcoming, and quiet. Neighboring houses weren't visible from the top of the driveway, and Julian liked that. Rather than lonely, the location seemed serene, sheltered from the rest of the town.

Loki parked, shut off the engine, and stepped out of the vehicle. Julian followed suit, but Kiki seemed to have fallen asleep in the back seat. Without missing a beat, Loki pulled his bag out from under her, and she awoke.

"Stay awake," he admonished. "We have work to do."

Julian followed them into the house, leaving his belongings in the car; he would retrieve them in the morning. They entered into a cozy living room, where open books covered almost every flat surface. A few volumes were even stacked on the floor. Immediately, Loki cleared off the coffee table at the center of the room, set the duffel bag down there, and seated himself on the sofa while Kiki collapsed into an armchair.

Julian wasn't yet prepared to make himself comfortable. "Is she gonna be okay?" he asked his father.

"Yes," Loki sighed. "I am certain that she will."

Julian watched the dancer for a few moments, and it quickly became evident that she had nodded off again. "Should we just... let her sleep?"

Loki rolled his eyes as he stood and stepped toward Kiki. Quickly and gently, he slapped her cheek with his open palm several times. "_Kiki_," he called to her, "I need you to _stay awake_."

She jumped, and with a little snort, she returned to the world of the living. "Huh? Sorry. What happened?"

"Just wait here," Loki said as he turned and started toward the kitchen situated at the back of the house, beside a staircase. "Son, would you please keep her alert?"

"Sure," said Julian, though he wasn't quite clear on what keeping Kiki alert would entail. With Loki out of the room, Julian took his place on the couch. He kept Loki's guest silent company, but when her eyelids started to droop once again, he knew that he needed to say something.

"So, hey," he started awkwardly. "Are you feeling alright?"

"No," she moaned. "I'm _crashing_."

"What do you mean?" Julian asked, though he had a feeling he understood her perfectly.

She slouched further and covered her eyes with one hand. "Oh, honey," she mumbled, "don't get into this stuff. It's gonna eat you alive."

The implication that he would soon be "into" something he had no business being "into" unsettled Julian. He didn't want to discuss it further, and he was filled with an odd mixture of dread and relief when Loki returned with a small, digital scale and a handful of tiny, plastic bags and sat down beside him on the sofa.

"This will only take a moment," Loki assured Julian as he unzipped the duffel bag to reveal its contents.

Loki's mysterious cargo was comprised, in equal parts, of two things. Bundles of cash, encircled by rubber bands, were commingled with rectangular, plastic-wrapped packages containing a white substance that could only be one thing. Julian was aghast.

"You've been walking around with that _the whole time_?" he exclaimed, not quite believing what he was seeing.

"No," Loki replied calmly as he removed the cash from the luggage.

"What do you mean, '_no_?'"

"Well," Loki explained, "the _money_ was not there before. So, no, I have not been walking around with _all_ of this the _whole_ time."

For one reason or another, Julian felt betrayed. So far, his father had been nothing but a disappointment to him, but why should he have expected anything else?

He watched as Loki extracted a pocket knife from the pocket of his jacket, cut into one of the white bricks, and pushed the drugs aside, toward Kiki. Immediately, she perked up and asked, "Can I really have some, Daddy?"

She _had_ to stop calling him that.

"Please do," Loki answered as he continued unpacking, separating the money and the narcotics into two separate piles before tossing the duffel bag onto the floor and off to the side. "As I said, I need you awake."

Kiki smiled so broadly that her darkened eyes nearly closed. She reached into the low neck of her shirt, and her hand emerged grasping a section of a straw and a playing card.. She pinched off a bit of powder and used the card to scoop it all into a neat line, then knelt to the floor, leaned over the table, and inhaled it through the straw.

Julian propped his head up in his hands and grasped at his hair. "Why are you _like_ this?" he muttered.

"Is something wrong?" Loki asked blithely as he carefully emptied some of the contents of one of the packages onto the scale. "Kiki, get to work."

With renewed energy, she reached for one of the bundles of cash, removed the rubber band, and began counting the money.

"Did you really expect me to be okay with this?" Julian complained. "Do you even know how much trouble you could be in if you got caught? Do you even care?"

Loki paused, but didn't look up from his work. "Will you allow me to explain?"

"Yeah, sure," said Julian, "but it's not like I'm gonna-"

Loki cut him off. "You _have_ spoken to your mother, have you not?"

"Yeah."

"And has she told you anything about our little... dispute?"

"No."

"Of course," Loki chuckled. "No matter. Perhaps it is better that _I_ tell the story."

"I really don't see how any of that matters," Julian said, impatient.

"It does, but you will never understand if you refuse to listen," Loki replied as he poured the portion that he had just weighed into one of the small bags and started on another. "Now, your mother was once a lawyer. _My_ lawyer. That was how she and I first met."

"Why did you need a lawyer?" Julian asked.

"That is unimportant," said Loki. "What you must understand is that she was never quite... how should I put it?"

"She's a crazy bitch," Kiki interjected.

"I had hoped to phrase it more _delicately_, but, yes," Loki agreed reluctantly. "In any event, I suffered the consequences of her incompetence. She fell _deeply_ in love with me, the poor thing, and it eventually drove her to madness. For her crimes, she was sentenced to imprisonment, but I, too, was implicated in those crimes. You see, this is why I did not seek you out sooner, my son."

"What happened to you?" Julian questioned, his curiosity piqued.

Loki breathed a dramatic sigh. "I _do_ hope that you will not think less of me. For these past eighteen years, I have been confined to a-"

"The funny farm," Kiki interrupted with a sniffle. "No offense."

"Be silent and keep yourself busy," Loki directed her before he continued his story. "I was confined to an... institution, thanks to Elise."

Julian was confused. "Who's Elise?"

"_Oh_," Loki laughed. "She has not even told you _that_ much, has she?"

Julian shook his head.

"Well, you see, she was devastated when we parted ways, and in a desperate attempt at retribution, she concealed you from me." He chuckled once more. "_Eileen McNaughton_," he sneered. "Did she _truly_ believe that as thinly-veiled a ruse as a change of her name would deter me? It is as though she _wanted_ to be found..." Loki trailed off and stared at the wall for a moment before returning to his explanation. "As I was saying, she had me locked away in that place, where I remained for nearly seventeen years. It took me that long to convince the caregivers that I was well enough to resume life as a member of this society."

"Hold on, back up," said Julian, rubbing his eyes. "So, you're saying mom didn't tell me about you – or the other way around, I guess – because she was just... mad at you?"

"It _is_ a bit more complex than that," said Loki, "but yes, that is what I have said."

It made some sense to Julian, but it still didn't answer his original question. "But how do you get from that to... all this?"

"This is where things become complicated," his father said. "As my lawyer says, I have no 'status' in this realm. As I understand it, the only reason that I may remain here is that I am unwelcome in Asgard."

Julian nodded. "It's like asylum, right?"

"Not exactly," said Loki. He stood and began to pace the room. As he made his way around the perimeter, he locked the door and made sure that all of the curtains were closed. "No place on Midgard will extend to me that courtesy by nature of my history, as they know it."

"You mean the attack on New York City?"

Loki wheeled around and glared at Julian. "How do you know of that?"

"Sorry," Julian said. Apparently, he had stricken a nerve. "I _did_ go to school. It's... something we talked about."

Loki nodded solemnly and turned away. "That would certainly explain your anger at learning your true parentage. But I assure you, my son, I _have_ changed. I only do the things you see me doing now to survive. Without any nationality, and having lost so much of my time to that institution, the only resource I have at my disposal is a certain number of skills."

Julian could empathize with him, to an extent. In his short life, he had accomplished little, and what minor accomplishments he did have to be proud of had gotten him absolutely nowhere. He found himself wanting to know more, so he asked: "What kinds of skills?"

Loki ceased his anxious pacing and returned to the couch. "Some are inborn, and others, I have learned," he answered. "Powers that no mere mortal could ever hope to command."

The conversation seemed to have taken a sudden turn – now, Loki actually sounded like he _belonged_ in a mental hospital.

Loki just smiled. "You do not believe me, do you?"

"Oh, no, it's not that," Julian lied. "You just kind of lost me at 'powers.'"

"Wait here," Loki said, on his feet once again to retrieve something from the kitchen. "And please, watch her." He gestured at the pile of cocaine still in plain view at the center of the room. "She does not need any more of _that_."

Almost as soon as he left the room, Kiki reached for the open package in front of her, placed a small amount of the powder on the tip of her thumb, and sniffed.

"Didn't you hear what he just said?" Julian whispered. "Stop it."

"Relax," said Kiki, rolling her eyes and bringing her knees up so that she was sitting butterfly-style in the chair. "I always get what I want from him _anyway_. It's totally not a big deal."

"So you wouldn't mind if I went told him?" said Julian, gesturing toward the kitchen entrance.

"Whatever," said Kiki. "_I_ can get away with this stuff. If he gets pissed, I just make up for it later."

"I seriously doubt that."

She rubbed the remainder of the powder on her fingers against her gums, then said simply, "Everything's a transaction."

She fell silent and resumed counting before Loki returned. In his arms, he carried flour and baking soda and a decaying, leather-bound book.

"I, uh... I don't think that's enough ingredients to make cookies," Julian joked uneasily.

"Ooh, watch this," Kiki said, pointing excitedly at the items Loki carried as he cleared a space for them on the table. "It's crazy. He, like, turns water into wine, except instead of water, it's flour, and, like, the wine is blow."

Loki smiled and laughed through his nose. "You have ruined the suspense, girl."

Julian still didn't buy it. "So, what, you cut the drugs with some flour and other stuff?"

"Of course not," replied Loki as he reclaimed his space on the couch. "That would be dishonest, would it not? There is a word for that... Kiki, what was it?"

"I told _you_, that's called 'stepping on it,'" she replied with a giggle. "You're such an old man."

Julian watched Loki poured out a small hill of flour, then a circle of baking soda to surround it. It was quite odd, and it reminded Julian of something a child would do in a sandbox, until Loki flipped to a dog-eared page in his book and set it down beside him for reference.

Loki held his hands a few inches above the table, glanced at the open pages, then turned to focus on the raw materials before him. "This is not a simple transformation to effect," he explained. "It has taken me quite some time to perfect it." He brought his hands together, then slowly apart until a light began to glow between them.

"Whoa." That was the only response Julian could muster.

When whatever energy Loki held in his hands seemed to be on the verge of becoming too volatile, he jerked his hands down, stopping just inches before hitting the table. There was a "pop" and a little puff of smoke, but whatever chemical change had occurred in the baking ingredients was imperceptible to Julian.

"That was a _really_ cool trick," Julian said. "But it didn't really work, did it?"

"If you still do not believe me, then taste some for yourself." Loki replied. Nothing in his voice indicated that he was joking.

"Oh, um... no. I mean, no thanks. I don't, uh... I don't do drugs."

"Then you _do_ believe me," said Loki. "Good."

"Well, sort of," Julian responded nervously. "Not really, but..."

"Just do it, then. I truly doubt that it will have the effect on you that it does on Kiki."

"Huh?"

Loki leaned back and crossed his arms. "Hmph. My son is the brightest in his class, and yet he has _still_ failed to draw conclusions from all that he has learned today."

"Second brightest," Julian corrected. "But I still don't know what you're talking about."

"Surely, you already know that you are quite different from your peers," said Loki. "Why do you think that is? Hm?"

"Well, now I think it's because I'm related to you," said Julian, "but I just don't know what that _means_."

"Where to begin..." Loki closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Do you recall when I told you that you could expect to live for a very long time?"

Julian nodded.

"What did you think I meant when I said that?"

He shrugged. "I thought you just meant that people in our family lived to be, like, ninety."

Loki laughed heartily. "Oh, Julian. You vastly underestimate yourself. No, ninety years is not by any means a 'long time.' If you have inherited my longevity, you will live for four thousand years or more."

Julian was floored. "Seriously?"

"Oh, yes," Loki confirmed. "Unless, of course, you take after your mother. And have you noticed the mortals' physical weakness in relation to yourself?"

"I guess, sort of."

"Explain."

Julian shrugged. "When I was younger, I got beat up a lot. But I guess I never really tried to fight back. Not until high school."

"And what happened then?"

"I guess I usually won," said Julian. "But then, this... _thing_ started happening."

Loki's eyes narrowed. "What started happening?"

"You know," Julian replied. "Like when you grabbed my arm back at school. It hurts like crazy, and I just feel kind of... out-of-control."

"I see," Loki said, touching his forefinger to his lips.

"Yeah," said Julian. "Is that normal? I mean, normal for you."

His father shook his head. "Not quite," he said. "You should not feel _pain_ when your true form reveals itself."

Julian frowned. "My true form?"

"Yes," Loki sighed. "You see, my son, although I was raised among Asgardians, I am a frost giant."

"I don't know what that means."

"It means that I was taken from Jotunheim as an infant and..." He paused to take a deep breath and softened his tone. "Well, that is no longer important. What you must know is that many among our race are capable of certain feats of strength and magic. Your mortal peers, being of inferior lineage, cannot compare in these respects. You, however... hm."

"What?" Julian pushed. "Is there something wrong with me?"

"No, not at all," Loki replied quickly. "But Elise, being mortal... perhaps you have also inherited some of her shortcomings. Perhaps that half of your lineage rejects the other half. After all, you are the first of your kind."

"You mean the first half-human, half-giant?"

"Precisely. And for that reason, we must find out where my son ends and Elise's begins." Loki stood and picked up the bag of flour and box of baking soda. "Tonight, however, we should not concern ourselves with these things. This is a joyous occasion; my son has finally been returned to me."

Those last words brought a smile to Julian's face.

"Would you like anything to drink?" Loki asked as he walked away. "Tea or coffee, perhaps beer?"

"You're gonna let me have beer?" Julian tried to suppress a grin.

"Of course," Loki replied. "Why not?"

"Because I'm underage."

"If it is the laws you are concerned with," Loki chuckled, "then perhaps you have come to the wrong place."

Their discussion was interrupted by a groan from the armchair. "I'm _bored_," Kiki whined. "I should've stayed at work. Where's my phone?"

Loki ignored Kiki and vanished into the kitchen, leaving Julian alone with her yet again.

"So, it sounds like puberty's been going really weird for you," she taunted.

"Please, shut up," said Julian. "I'm going through a lot right now."

"Do you have some kind of problem with me?" said Kiki. "It's like you can't even take a joke."

Julian looked away from her. He didn't want to argue, he just wanted the conversation to end.

"I get it," Kiki prodded, stumbling out of the armchair and onto the couch, uncomfortably close to Julian. She lowered her voice. "You just don't like me because I'm fucking your dad."

He felt himself becoming red in the face. "I really didn't need to hear that. That's disgusting."

"Not really," she said. "Like, he's into some freaky shit, but-"

"_Stop it_," Julian insisted. "Why the hell are you talking to _me_ about this?"

"Yeah, I get it," Kiki said, nodding her head rapidly. "You're just mad because your mom's never coming back."

Those words ignited anger in Julian, and he could feel his skin start to prickle and burn. "Seriously," he rasped, "_you have to stop_."

"Aw, does that make you _sad_?" she sneered. "Sweetie, let me tell you something about your mom."

Julian doubled over in pain. "_Shut up_," he snarled as as the change progressed. A violent impulsiveness began to take hold of his pscyhe – whatever he was becoming thought it would feel better if he just attacked her. He pushed the urge down, but Kiki didn't relent.

"Nobody likes your mom because she's a stuck-up bitch," she laughed. "She used to get her ass kicked on a daily basis. She's probably getting her ass kicked _right now_."

Unable to control himself any longer, Julian let his anger leave his body in the form of a horrible scream. Even through the red lens that obscured his sight, he could see that Kiki was terrified. With one hand, she clutched the center of her chest, and she catapulted herself from the couch and fled to the kitchen. Instinctively, Julian pursued her, and as he moved, his sense of sight was reduced to a blur. Suddenly, he felt a set of hands, too large to belong to Kiki, on the back of his head and one of his shoulders, forcing his chest and cheek against a wall. He heard his father's voice.

"_Calm yourself_!" Loki shouted. "Julian, you _must_ remain calm!"

At first, Julian struggled to free himself, but Loki would not allow him to move away from the wall until he regained control of himself. With several deep, aching breaths, the warmth of the air in the room gnawing at his lungs, Julian eventually relaxed and reverted to his normal state. When Loki let go of him, he turned around to apologize.

"Sorry, Kiki," Julian panted, weakened and leaning against the wall.

"'Sorry?' That's all you're gonna say?" Her eyes were still open wide, and she pulled at her own hair in her anxiety.

"What else do you _want_ me to say?"

"I dunno," said Kiki, "but you need to _chill_. You're fucking crazy."

"Hey, don't call me-"

"She _is_ right, Julian," said Loki, applying a bottle opener to one of the beers he had already taken from the refrigerator and set out on the counter before turning to face his son. "You simply _must_ control your rage. We would not want any accidents happening, now, would we?" He handed the open bottle over to Julian. "I must say, it is quite peculiar that _provocation_ is what causes this side of you to reveal itself."

"So, what should I do?" Julian asked before taking a swig from the bottle of beer.

"We shall find a way to put this to use," said Loki. "Of course, I am referring to your... _passion_, but to your power, as well."

Julian shook his head slowly. "I'm still finding all this really hard to believe."

"Daddy?" Kiki interrupted.

Loki rolled his eyes before turning to address her. "_What_?"

"Wanna come to bed with me?"

"Not now," he replied dismissively. "Go, and I will join you shortly."

"Hmph. Fine." She approached Loki and stood on the tips of her toes to plant an affectionless kiss on his cheek. With that, she left, and the stairs in the house creaked conspicuously as she ascended to the second floor.

"There is still much more to discuss," Loki said as he sat down at the kitchen table and gestured for Julian to join him, "but all of this will become clearer to you in time."


	5. Collaboration

Julian and Loki lost track of time while they were talking; they did not retire to their respective rooms until the early hours of the morning. As a result, Julian slept in, finally awakening just before noon. He stretched, got himself out of bed, and proceeded downstairs. To his surprise, however, he soon discovered the he was the _only_ person in the house who was awake.

"Good morning," he called from the living room, in case anyone would hear him. "Hello?"

He was used to going about his morning routine by himself, but Julian didn't feel entirely at home in Loki's house yet. He decided that his father probably wouldn't mind if he made himself breakfast, as long as he made enough for everyone, so he began checking the cupboards for something he could prepare.

The first cupboard he checked, above the sink, contained no food. Instead, it was packed to capacity with neat piles of white and light-brown, plastic-wrapped bricks. Julian sighed, shook his head, and closed the door. The refrigerator, however, was being put to its intended use, and there, Julian found a carton of eggs and a loaf of bread. He placed two slices in the toaster, then located a skillet, a spatula, and three plates so that he could begin frying.

He watched and listened to the eggs sizzling in the pan, and for a moment, he lost himself in musing over what it meant to be a "half-giant." The strange revelation didn't yet feel real, and somehow, he couldn't help but feel that his new relationship with his father would prove to be temporary. Of course, this didn't stop him from imagining scenarios in which his family was whole and functional. If his mother were granted parole by some stroke of luck or mercy, he thought, then perhaps he could convince her to at least attempt reconciliation with Loki. He now felt determined to make the family he had wanted for so long more a part of his life; he just didn't know how to make that happen.

Julian heard slow footsteps falling on the groaning wooden staircase. He hoped that the person joining him on the first floor would be his father, but to his disappointment, Kiki was the first to appear. She was "dressed" in a white button down shirt that barely covered the tops of her thighs; her feet were bare, and the extensions in her hair seemed to be inextricably knotted together. Her eyes were glassy, reddened, and barely open, and she shuffled pathetically from one room to the next.

"Good morning," Julian greeted.

Kiki just grunted, pulled open the drawer that should have housed only silverware, and fished around until she found what she was looking for. She extracted a tiny packet of still more white powder and sat down with it at the kitchen table. Barely coherent, she still managed to form the substance into straight lines before she inhaled it.

Julian suppressed the urge to comment on her unhealthy habit and instead asked, "Kiki, do you want some eggs and toast?"

"Nuh-uh," she croaked. "I meet Loki's clients at the diner. I'm getting breakfast there."

"Clients?"

She let out a sigh that evolved into a frustrated snarl. "Are you deaf? _Clients_. I meet up with, like, the cokeheads, and Loki goes and moves high quantities. It's not complicated."

"Jeez, sorry," said Julian as he split the breakfast into two plates instead of three and sat down at the table across from Kiki. "I'm not exactly used to this stuff."

"Well, get used to it."

At that moment, another set of footsteps could be heard descending the stairs, but these ones were heavy and fast. Loki was running.

"Quickly!" he barked once he reached the kitchen. "We must hide _everything_!"

"Now? Shit!" Suddenly alert, Kiki bolted out of her seat and dashed toward the living room.

"Why? What's wrong?" said Julian, feeling panicked even before any explanation was given.

"That dreadful woman, that _social worker_, she rang my telephone just now," Loki replied hurriedly as he backed out of the kitchen. "She will be here any moment, and I do _not_ want her complicating things any further than she already has!"

Julian empathized with his anxiety – he had met more social workers than he had ever cared to – and he immediately moved to join Loki and Kiki in the living room. He was unsure how to go about handling the huge quantity of drugs strewn about the house, so he watched what Kiki was doing and followed her lead. They stuffed the bricks under furniture, in cabinets, and at the back of the closet. The money was tucked into the unzippable cushions of the couch and armchair. Once they were finished – and they finished quickly – Loki went to the kitchen, retrieved a rag, and began wiping down surfaces that were dusted with the residue of narcotics.

"Kiki," he instructed as he cleaned, "stay upstairs, and be silent."

"Why are you always trying to hide me from her?" Kiki asked. "It's not like you can't have a girlfriend."

"You flatter yourself, foolish woman," Loki responded venomously. "Go. _This instant_."

Clearly, Loki wasn't prepared to take any chances. Kiki scurried up the stairs, and Julian heard a door slam on the second floor, then a knock on the first floor's front door.

Loki sighed as he stepped toward the house's entrance. In what appeared to be a deliberate move, he softened his facial expression before unlocking and opening the door.

"Hello again, Miss Courtland," he smiled.

"Hello, Loki," the social worker said. "It's always nice to see you in a good mood." Miss Courtland was a short, pear-shaped woman who wore her hair in a tight bun and her reading glasses on a chain around her neck. She seemed to be sweating in her black pantsuit, a poor choice for summer. She didn't smile as she walked into the house and sat herself down on the sofa, crossing her thick ankles as she cracked open Loki's case file. She looked up from the file only to point her pen at Julian and ask, "Who's this?"

"I have wonderful news, Miss Courtland," Loki announced as took the place beside her on the couch.

The social worker subtly inched away from him, and the wrinkles in her forehead punctuated her skepticism. "What is it this time?" she asked.

"This is my son," Loki proclaimed proudly. "He has completed his studies, and now, he has come to stay here with me."

Already exasperated, Miss Courtland exhaled a sigh through her nose. "Loki, we've been over this several times before. You _do not_ have a son."

Loki's mood soured quite suddenly, and his furrowed brow and change in posture reflected this. "My son stands here before you, and _still_, you refuse to accept this truth." He flung one arm out to his side to gesture at Julian. "Do you not see the resemblance? What must I do to convince you?"

"You're not supposed to _convince_ me of anything," Miss Courtland said. "You're supposed to be getting well, and if this... _situation_ is any indication of your mental state, then perhaps you should consider returning to treatment."

"Hold on," Julian interjected.

"Son," said Loki, "please do not-"

"No, just hold on, I wanna ask her something," said Julian crossing his arms. "Miss, I'm eighteen, so that means I can live with whoever I want, right?"

She sighed again. "Well, that's not _entirely_ correct."

"But if my dad wants me to live here, and I wanna live here, does it even matter if he's not my real dad?"

"It _does_ matter, young man," said Miss Courtland. "It matters quite a bit. _You_ should not be contributing to his mental disease by posing as his child."

"Miss Courtland," Loki said, his voice lower and more gentle as he leaned toward her, "I have been quite well as of late. I have mastered the 'coping mechanisms' you described when last we met. I have let go of the friends you felt were poisonous. I have spoken with you at length about the thoughts and the emotions I have experienced, and you have helped me address each of them in turn. Really, Miss Courtland – and I intend no disrespect – if I now do not know my own _son_, after all of this, is it not _you_ who has failed?"

She didn't respond right away, but then said, "Why don't we take a step back, Loki? Let's discuss how you came into contact with... Julian, was it?"

"Yes," said Loki. "As you are already aware, I have been searching for my son for quite some time now."

"I am _fully_ aware of that," Miss Courtland said. "You've brought that up just about every time I've seen you."

Loki shot Julian a look, the sort of look that said "follow my lead."

"But," Miss Courtland continued, "how is it that you and Julian actually _met_?"

"His mother alerted him to _my_ whereabouts," Loki answered. "Julian then extended to me an invitation to his graduation ceremony. Do I remember that correctly, Julian?"

"Oh, yeah," Julian nodded. "I couldn't believe he actually showed up. I was really happy."

"Mm-hm. I see." Miss Courtland finished etching some notes into Loki's file, then closed the folder and clasped her hands together in her lap. "Loki, can I make a suggestion?"

"Of course," he smiled. "Anything."

"I think you should look for some proof that this young man is who he says he is," Miss Courtland recommended. "You should have a paternity test before you make any big decisions about cohabitation."

"While I appreciate your concern," Loki replied calmly, "I am quite sure that Julian is my son. I may be mad, but I am no fool."

"Of course not." Miss Courtland's words dripped with judgment. "Still, it might be wise to take precautions, don't you think?"

"I shall consider it," said Loki. "In the meantime, is there anything else you would like to discuss while you are here?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," said Miss Courtland. "Maybe we should ask Julian to leave the room."

Loki shook his head. "No. Anything that I tell you, I can say in front of my son."

"As long as you're sure," the social worker replied as she opened the file once more. "How has your mood been? Have you been controlling your anger?"

"Yes, of course," said Loki. "I am happier than I have ever been."

"And your impulse control... how have you been accomplishing that?"

"I have done everything you have asked of me. I have counted to ten, I have found distractions... everything."

"And is it working?"

"Quite well."

"And have you had any... episodes? Any nightmares, flashbacks?"

"No, no," Loki chuckled. "Not for a very long time."

"Have you had any contact with your family since our last meeting?" Miss Courtland took notes even as she spoke. "Of course, I am referring to your brother specifically, not... new additions."

Loki shook his head. "Miss Courtland, as I have told you time and time again, Thor and I are on better terms now, but nothing will ever reverse the years of abuse I suffered at his hands."

"I understand that," Miss Courtland responded in a somewhat condescending tone, "but I thought I'd ask, just in case. And how have you been spending your time?"

"Oh, I rarely leave this house," Loki answered. "I have been learning to cook."

"A new hobby," said Miss Courtland. "That's good news. Could you tell me more about that?"

"My recipes are closely-guarded secrets," Loki laughed.

"Of course, of course." Miss Courtland smiled for the first time since she arrived. "And speaking of secrets, you haven't been feeling as though anyone is watching you, have you?"

"No, no," said Loki. "As I have said, those days are far behind me now. I am free of my delusions and fear."

"Very good," said Miss Courtland as she scratched one final note onto the page in front of her and closed the file. "Now, unless there's anything you'd like to ask _me_, I think we can make this a short visit."

Loki acted as though her were thinking before saying, "I have nothing to ask."

"Great," Miss Courtland replied as she got to her feet and started toward the door. "I'll come back in a few weeks to check in with you, and we'll discuss Julian a bit more then."

"Wonderful," said Loki as he rushed to open the door for her and see her out. "I look forward to seeing you again."

With that, she was gone. Loki peered through the window while she walked to her car, but as soon as the engine could no longer be heard from the living room, his pleasant demeanor gave way to rage. With one hand, he lifted a small table from its space beside the entrance and threw it against the wall, where it splintered into several pieces.

"I swear to you," he snarled as he began pacing the floor, "one day, I shall do away with that woman!"

Julian was stunned. In his eighteen years of life, he had never seen anyone become so angry so quickly.

"That _idiot_!" Loki cursed. "Had she come a moment sooner, I would have had no choice but to..."

He stopped abruptly, in the middle of his thought, leaving Julian wondering what he had in mind for Miss Courtland.

"Dad," said Julian, though the word still didn't feel quite right on his tongue, "aren't you overreacting a little? Nothing happened. It's okay."

"_No_," Loki seethed. "You do not understand what is at risk here."

"So, why don't you just get all the coke out of the house?" Julian suggested.

"This is about far more than that," Loki replied. "But perhaps you are right. She seems to have no suspicions..."

At that moment, Kiki, seemingly unaffected by what had just transpired on the floor below, reached the foot of the stairs, cell phone in hand. "She's gone?"

"She is," said Loki. "At last."

"Okay, good," said Kiki, "'cause Alexis wants to come by."

Julian's stomach turned, and he found himself more preoccupied with the possibility of seeing her again than with the chance of being implicated in narcotics trafficking.

Loki seemed puzzled. "Alexis... hm. You once said that she could not be trusted."

"I never said I didn't _trust_ her," Kiki said as she climbed over the back of the sofa and let herself fall onto its cushions. "I said I didn't _like_ her. Anyway, it kind of sounds like she wants in."

Loki considered the idea momentarily before rendering his decision. "Have her come here, then, so that we may discuss this more privately."

As Kiki tapped away furiously at her phone, Julian could feel his heart sinking. Perhaps he had misjudged Alexis, or underestimated her. Perhaps she was desperate. For the second time in as many days, he wondered what it would take to rescue her from her circumstances, if she did, indeed, want to be rescued. He needed a distraction from his anxiety.

"Would now be a good time to, you know, unpack and stuff?" Julian asked.

"Yes," Loki answered. He removed his car keys from the pocket of his trousers and tossed them to Julian.

Julian trekked out into the driveway, hearing the gravel crunching beneath his feet, and unlocked the SUV. As he unloaded his backpack and other belongings from the back seat, he noticed something that wasn't his on the vehicle's floor. There was a cardboard box, full to the top with binders, notebooks, and loose pieces of paper. He might not have noticed it had Loki not been so insistent that he not rifle around in the back of the car. He knew that it would be wrong to intrude on Loki's privacy, and he did not want to betray his trust at such an early stage, but to sate his curiosity, he lifted the loose page on top and took a peek. It appeared to be the first page of a legal document, with the header that read "United States v. Loki Laufeyson, Defendant, and Elise Milton, Defendant" on the left and a case number on the right. The line beneath read: "Government's Sentencing Memorandum."

Julian hadn't read as far as the first paragraph before he heard another car rolling into the driveway. He replaced the page on the top of the pile, quickly exited the vehicle, and shut and locked the door. He stood beside his bags as he waited for Alexis to step out of her own car, and his heart beat hard against the center of his chest when she finally emerged.

In the light of day, she looked like a different person, but just as breathtaking to Julian. She wore flat sandals, sunglasses, and a plain tank top, and as she moved to sling her large purse over her shoulders, her long ponytail swished back and forth against her shoulder blades.

"You guys forgot your mail!" she called to Julian from the bottom of the driveway. "You want me to get it for you?"

"Yeah, sure!" Julian responded, his voice a bit too loud. He slipped his arms between the straps of his backpack and picked up his luggage, then waited for her near the entrance to the house.

As she approached, Alexis leafed through the envelopes in her hands. "This one's addressed to you," she reported, pulling one letter from the stack.

Julian bounced one of his bags into the crook of his elbow so that he could take the envelope from her and open the door.

"Welcome," said Loki as they stepped inside. "Lock the door behind you, please."


	6. Commendation

Julian sat at the kitchen table with the others, but he tuned out their conversation as he turned the envelope over and over in his hands. How could anyone have known where to send his mail? Not even he knew the address of Loki's house. It was suspicious, and he became concerned about whatever was inside.

"Aren't you gonna open that?" Alexis asked during a lull in the discussion.

"I don't know," said Julian. "Seems kind of weird."

"What's so weird about getting-"

"Alexis," Loki interjected, turning her attention back to himself. "We must settle this."

"It's already settled," she said. "I'll sell out of the club, take my cut, and everything else goes to you. It's pretty straightforward."

"Nuh-uh," Kiki protested. "_I'm_ covering that already."

"Not anymore," said Loki. "You have been asked not to return."

"_What_?" she shrieked. "They _fired_ me?"

Loki nodded calmly. "It would seem they have had quite enough of your... bad habit."

Kiki groaned. "What the hell am I gonna do for money?"

"Isn't that the whole point of dealing coke?" said Alexis.

"_God_, you're annoying," Kiki snarled. "I _already_ wish I hadn't brought you into this."

"Kiki," Loki admonished, "you would have nothing to worry about if your share did not vanish into your nose."

Kiki huffed, but she didn't deny the allegation.

"So, do we have an agreement, then?" asked Alexis.

"Yes," Loki confirmed. He then turned his attention to Julian. "What do you have there, my son?"

Julian shrugged. "Looks like a letter."

"From whom?"

"Something called 'The Banner Foundation.'"

Loki appeared puzzled for a moment, but then his lips curled into a sly smile. "Go on, then. Open it."

Julian tore the envelope lengthwise and extracted the letter inside. It was typed on watermarked letterhead and signed at the bottom. He read it to himself:

_Dear Julian McNaughton,_

_ It is with great pleasure that I write to inform you that you have been selected as the recipient of the Bruce Banner Young Scientist's Scholarship. Each year, this scholarship is awarded to one high school student or recent graduate who demonstrates financial need and potential to succeed in a scientific field._

_ As a Bruce Banner Scholar, you will receive an award to cover the full cost of attendance to the four-year university of your choice in order to pursue a degree in science, technology, engineering, or mathematics._

_ To accept this award, please join us for a reception for scholarship recipients to be held on June 20, 2030 at eight o'clock that evening at the Kingfisher Lakeside Banquet Hall in Watkins Glen, NY._

_ You must appear in person in order to receive your scholarship._

_ Please accept my sincere congratulations. I look forward to meeting you and wish you the best in your studies._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Dr. Bruce Banner_

Once he reached the end of the letter, Julian folded it carefully, slid it back into the torn envelope, and pushed it away from himself toward the center of the table. He didn't know what to make of it. He hadn't applied for college, let alone any scholarships, and besides that, the question still remained: How would anyone have known to send a letter for him to Loki's residence? Something wasn't right.

"Well, what is it?" Loki asked.

"I don't know," Julian sighed. "It seems like some kind of scam."

Loki reached across the table and grabbed the envelope. As he read in silence, Julian turned to look at Alexis. She noticed him looking at her, smiled sheepishly, and turned her gaze downward.

"What?" she giggled. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You don't know anything about any Bruce Banner science scholarship, do you?" Julian asked.

Alexis frowned and shook her head. "Of course not. I never went to college or anything," she replied. "Why? Is that what that letter's about?"

"Yes," Loki interrupted. He gently set the letter back down on the table. "That is precisely what it is about." He appeared pensive, not proud or excited the way a parent would be upon learning that his child would be receiving an honor such as this. Something about it must have seemed odd to him as well.

"It sounds kind of fake, right?" said Julian. "Should I just, like... ignore it?"

Loki shook his head slowly. "Girls," he said, "leave us."

Kiki stood and pushed her chair away. Alexis, however, didn't budge.

"Why?" she asked. The concern in her voice sounded genuine. "Is everything okay?"

"Come on." Kiki suddenly appeared very tense, and she grabbed hold of Alexis' wrist to urge her away from the table. "Move your ass. Don't piss him off."

Alexis stood slowly, but she didn't take her eyes off of Loki until she and Kiki were out of the kitchen. The stairs creaked as they walked up, and Loki waited until he could no longer hear them before he addressed Julian again. His voice was hushed, but he spoke with intensity.

"How is it that Doctor Banner knows how to reach you?"

"I don't know," Julian replied. "I don't even know who he is."

Loki's expression hardened, and his tone darkened. "It would be unwise to lie to me, _son_. I will ask you once more..." He had been more or less calm, but now, his lips curled back to reveal his teeth, and he raised his voice. "_Why_ does that _monster_ know where you are?"

"Look," Julian replied, defensive, "I'm telling you, I have no idea what this is about. I didn't apply or any scholarships or anything, and I swear, I didn't give anyone your address." He was becoming overexcited, and he took a deep breath to calm his nerves. "Can you just explain to me what's wrong?"

Loki dragged his fingernails across the table as he balled his hands into tense fists. "This must be a trick," he growled. "Either he wishes to lure me into a trap, or he wishes to use you against me."

"Or maybe I just got a scholarship," Julian blurted before he thought better of it.

"You do not know the Avengers," said Loki. "You do not know S.H.I.E.L.D. They will do anything in their power to..."

Loki's thought was interrupted by the sound of Julian's cell phone ringing in one of his bags. Julian started – it could only be his mother, calling from the prison. He rushed into the living room where he had left his things, and he searched frantically through the pockets of his backpack for the phone. Just as he located it, however, the ringtone died, and the "missed call" message appeared on the screen.

"_Shit_," he sighed.

"What was that?" Loki asked from the doorway.

"It was mom," said Julian. "She's gonna be so worried... I can't believe I missed her."

"Hm." Loki crossed his arms and looked downward, contemplative. "Does Elise know that you have joined me here?"

It took Julian a moment to realize that "Elise" was his mother's name. "I haven't had the chance to tell her. But... I mean, you know how she is, right?"

"I do not," said Loki. He seemed to have calmed down. "She and I have not breathed a word to one another in nearly twenty years."

"Well, I know she's not gonna be happy about it." Julian sighed deeply. "Sorry. I guess I just wish she... um..."

Loki approached him, put a hand on his shoulder, and looked him in the eye. "What do you wish, my son?"

"I wish you guys could just get along." The words had been on the tip of his tongue, and they came forth quickly. "And I wish she was here. I mean, I'm really glad _you're_ here, it's nothing against you, I just... I don't know."

"I understand," Loki replied. "You wish that your family were complete."

"Yeah."

"You wish that you could have had your mother and father with you all along."

"Yeah."

"And you would give _anything_ to make that happen, would you not?"

Julian didn't know what to make of the question, but he nodded, because it was true. "I know I'm not a kid anymore, but it's hard, you know? I love mom, and now that I know _you_, it's like I have to make a decision."

"I once loved her," Loki said, sympathetic. "I loved her very much. But it is as I said: she has gone mad."

"Don't say that," Julian responded. "She isn't crazy. Whatever happened before, you don't even know her anymore."

Loki shrugged. "Perhaps I do not."

"It's not like it makes a difference, anyway," Julian groaned. "She's never getting out."

"And how can you be sure of that?"

"Because she's out of appeals, and she can't get parole."

"Well," Loki chuckled, "what you describe are merely _formal_ processes. For you and I, there are... other ways of doing things."

The implication that Loki might be willing to help his mother brought Julian hope, something he thought was long lost. "What other ways?"

"Nothing strictly permissible within the laws of this realm, of course," Loki admitted, "but what have we to fear? We are _gods_ to them, after all."

Julian was puzzled and nervous. "You're not talking about... um... breaking her out of prison, are you?"

"Why, yes," Loki said.

"You'd really do that for her? What if you got caught?"

"For her, I would not," he said. "For you, however, I would."

Julian was incredulous. "But we can't. There's no way..."

"Of course we can," Loki replied as he approached the bookshelf and searched for something. "All we need is a plan."

"But what happens after?" Julian protested. "Where's she gonna go?"

Loki pulled one of the volumes from the shelf and opened it to a bookmarked page. "She will come here, of course," he answered. "If it means this much to you, then I would be _more_ than willing to salvage what I can of our..." He paused. "Our _love_. Now, come here."

Julian joined Loki at the bookshelf and cocked his head sideways to read the page. The language was foreign, but with a wave of his hand, Loki made the letters rearrange themselves into English. Julian blinked several times to be sure that he was not hallucinating.

"First, let us see what you are capable of," Loki said. "Read these words to yourself."

Julian nodded and read them in his head.

"Now, do as I do," Loki instructed as he raised his hand.

Julian did the same.

Loki flicked his wrist in a sharp motion, brushing his fingers together lightly as he brought his arm down. A small flame burned in his hand until he waved his hand once more. "This is the desired result," he explained.

Julian attempted to duplicate the motion, but nothing happened. He was somewhat disappointed. "Am I doing it wrong?"

Loki shook his head. "Are you repeating those words to yourself?"

"Oh," said Julian. "Right." He tried once again, this time reading and moving all at once. Again, the results were less than impressive, with nothing but a puff of thin smoke appearing in his palm.

"This is simple magic," Loki admonished. "I did this as a child. It should be no trouble for you."

"Why are we doing this?" Julian asked. "I don't-"

"Once more," Loki urged.

Again, Julian tried, but little more than a spark resulted. On his next attempt, however, he conjured a small ember. This outcome startled him, and he waved his hand wildly to put the fire out.

"_There_!" Loki exclaimed. "Again!"

Julian hesitated, but at his father's insistence, he repeated the magic trick. This time, the fire in his palm came effortlessly, and he let it burn there for several seconds. It was warm, of course, but it didn't singe his hand. It felt good; it felt powerful.

"_Excellent_." Loki grinned, his lips pulling back to reveal his rows of white teeth. "Now, let us hope that you will be able to perform when the time is right."

"Wait, what?"

From the back of the book, Loki removed a folded piece of paper that had been lodged between the pages. He opened it to reveal and small-scale, hand-drawn map of the prison. Over one of the cells, in capital letters and red pen, the name "ELISE" had been scrawled. Over a larger square on the map, the word "LIBRARY" was written.

"If Kiki is to be trusted," Loki said, "then this is where your mother spends much of her time." He pointed to the library on the map. "I suspect that she will proceed to that room once your next visit with her has ended. You will be there, waiting for her, and when she arrives-"

"Wait, _wait_," Julian interrupted. "You're _serious_ about this?"

"Are you not serious?" said Loki. "I thought you would do _anything_ for your mother's sake."

"Well, yeah, but I..." Julian wasn't even sure how he was supposed to respond to what Loki was suggesting. "I mean, even if we do it, how am I supposed to be visiting her _and_ be in the library? I can't be two places at once."

"Of course you can."

Loki ran his hands through his hair, and it shortened to match Julian's length. As he dragged his fingertips slowly across his face, he took on his son's youthful appearance as well. He smiled and laughed as his shape shifted. To Julian, it was as though he was looking into a mirror.

"_I_ shall visit her." Loki's voice had even changed. "Meanwhile, you will wait."

"But there's no way I'm getting past prison security," said Julian. "I don't think you-"

"I _have_ thought of everything," Loki said as he flipped to another page in the open book. "This is a bit more difficult, so I shall assist you. Come closer."

Julian did as he said and stood directly in front of his father. Loki circled him, his arm extended, and Julian felt a wash of cold air over his skin. When he looked at his own hands, there was nothing there.

"_What the hell_?" Julian shouted. "What are you _doing_?"

Before Loki could respond, hurried footsteps could be heard from the second floor. Alexis appeared on the staircase, leaning over the railing and peering into the living room.

"Are you okay, Julian?" she asked. "I heard you yelling."

"All is well," Loki responded, still cloaked in Julian's body.

Alexis tilted her head. "Okay... um... where's Loki?"

"You are far too pretty to worry yourself over matters such as these," Loki answered using Julian's voice. "Come here."

Tentatively, Alexis descended the remainder of the stairs and approached him. "Are you sure you're okay? You sound a little... off."

Once she was near enough, Loki looped Julian's arm around Alexis' back and pulled her close. "How kind of you to come all the way down here just for _me_," he said. "But I am afraid that not everything is as it seems, my dear."

"Julian, you're scaring me," Alexis complained. "Please stop."

Julian watched in terror and disgust as Loki pressed Alexis' body even closer to his.

"Dad, that's _enough_!" Julian yelled, forgetting for a moment that he was invisible. "You're being _really_ weird!"

"What the... what? What _is_ this?" Alexis squeaked.

At that moment, Loki dropped the charade, reclaiming his own appearance and removing the shroud of invisibility that had covered Julian. "Now, give us a kiss," he growled, his hold on Alexis still firm.

"Get _off_ me, you sick freak!" she shrieked.

"That's not funny, Dad!" Julian shouted. "Let her go!"

At that moment, Alexis delivered a strike to Loki's throat, followed by a knee to his abdomen. Though neither attack immobilized him entirely, he was startled. His grip loosened, allowing Alexis to free herself and dash back up the stairs.

Loki laughed loudly as she ran, falling back onto the sofa, clearly amused at himself.

"You can't just do stuff like that," said Julian. "You scared her."

"Mortals are inferior to us," Loki said with a smile. "What good are they if they if not for a bit of levity every now and then?"

Julian inhaled a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. He knew that acting on his frustration would be ill-advised.

"Now, where were we?" Loki asked as he sat up straight. "Ah, yes. Do you understand now? I shall be you, and you shall be unseen. While I pay Elise a visit, you shall infiltrate the prison."

"Then what?"

"Then, burn it down."

Julian was convinced that he had misheard him. "Burn it down?"

"Oh, yes," said Loki. "Fear not. They will never suspect you, for you will have been visiting with Elise."

"There has to be a better way."

"A better way?"

"Yeah," said Julian, aghast at Loki's short-sightedness. "People could get hurt. Think about it. What if someone can't get out?"

"This is true," Loki admitted, "but are they worth more to you than your _own mother_?"

Julian felt that his intelligence was being insulted – he knew when he was being coerced – but on the other hand, he found the thought of his mother growing old and wasting away in a cell repugnant. He thought about his friend, George, the corrections officer, and what might happen to him, but considered that he would likely find a way out, as his post was near a doorway on visitation days. As for the others, surely, there were evacuation procedures in place. If the fire were under his own control, after all, he could contain it. He would just need to practice. All he _really_ needed to do was cause chaos, mayhem sufficient to allow his mother to pass undetected beyond the watchful eye of the Department of Corrections. The prison didn't necessarily have to burn to the ground. The more he thought about it, the more Julian became convinced that it could work. Still, he had reservations. "I don't know..."

"You _do_ understand that I am personally invested in the success of this plot, do you not?" said Loki.

"How's that?"

Loki sighed dramatically and fell back against the couch cushions again. "My son," he said, "would I be wise to trust you with this secret?"

"Yeah," Julian replied. "Anything."

"I miss your mother dearly," Loki confessed, sincere, by all appearances. "I never thought I could love a Midgardian woman. Kiki and the rest, they may be beautiful, but none compare to Elise. She is the mother of my child, and more than that, the only one who matches my wit, my fury, my... well, I need not explain to you the reasons why she is worthy of love. You understand, do you not?"

"But you said-"

"Never mind what I may have said," Loki interrupted. "I was saddened by her decision to keep you from me, but that no longer matters. We – all of us – now have the opportunity to begin anew. I cannot do this without you, son. Will you help me? Will you do this for _her_? For all of us?"

Julian hesitated, but after a few seconds, he nodded in agreement. "Okay. But just promise we won't take any chances with this."

"I assure you that nothing will be left to chance," said Loki, smiling. "Now, shall we dismiss the girls and begin our preparations?"


	7. Reunification

Over the next six days, Loki's focus remained on his "business" while Julian kept himself occupied mastering the magic trick he had learned. He spent most of his time in his room in Loki's house, teaching himself to control the ebb and flow of the flame. He was so anxious for the fast-approaching visitation day that he hardly ate or slept, and, for the most part, he avoided contact with everyone in the house, whether it was his father or either of the two dancers as they came or went. On the night before the big event, however, he made an exception to his self-imposed exile to share a brief conversation with Alexis.

"Hey, Julian," she called quietly as she cracked his door open. "Um... are you okay in here?"

"I'm fine," he answered curtly.

"I haven't seen you in a few days, so, like... if you need to talk or something, I'm here, okay?"

"Thanks," Julian replied. "There's nothing to talk about though."

"Oh." She went quiet, but she didn't leave the doorway.

"What's up with you?" Julian asked, realizing that his demeanor must have come off as less-than-welcoming. "Do you, uh... wanna come in?"

Alexis nodded quickly, smiled, and rushed into the room. Immediately, she sat herself down beside Julian on his bed. "I kind of missed you," she said.

"Really?"

"Uh-huh," she confirmed. "It's like you just disappeared. What have you been doing all week?"

"I, uh..." Julian didn't know how to answer. He had surmised that the plan to aid in his mother's escape was a secret. "I don't know. Just sort of... um... getting settled-in."

"Aw, come on, you're obviously doing _something_."

When Alexis scooted closer and tried to steal a peek at the spellbook over his shoulder, Julian slammed it shut.

"Sorry," he said. "This is kind of just between me and my dad."

"_Ooh_," Alexis teased. "Big plans?"

"Sort of. I mean, not really." Julian was a bad liar. "Just... got some things to take care of."

"What kinds of things?"

"I really shouldn't tell you..."

"I won't tell anyone. I promise."

She inched even closer and placed her hand on Julian's thigh. His muscles tensed and he nearly gasped aloud.

"I, uh... um..." Even had he wanted to explain, he couldn't have.

Alexis laughed at him. "I'm just messing with you. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Julian was somewhat relieved, but still, his nervousness paralyzed him.

"But whatever you're doing," Alexis went on, her tone still light but no longer playful, "be careful, okay?"

"Be... be careful?" Julian repeated.

"Yeah," said Alexis, nodding. "I mean, like, you know Loki's sort of... deep into some stuff, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Just, like, watch your back. That's all."

Without warning, she leaned forward and pecked Julian on the cheek, sending his head reeling. She swung her legs over the edge of the mattress, but before she could stand and walk out the door, something came over Julian.

"Wait."

He reached for her, caught hold of forearm, and pulled her into a kiss. In the moment, it seemed like a good idea, but almost immediately, he became embarrassed at his lack of self-control. He pulled away.

"Oh God, I'm... I'm so sorry," he stammered. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay," Alexis whispered just before she careened into him for another, knocking him onto his back.

Julian could barely believe it was real, but the scent of her shampoo and the smoothness of her skin convinced him that it was. Her lips, sticky with gloss, were just as soft as he imagined they would be. He didn't want it to end, but when she sat up straight, tossing her hair and then smoothing it out between her hands, it did. She laughed sheepishly before moving away from Julian and toward the door once again.

"I like you," she remarked on her way out, "but can we keep this kind of on the down-low? You know how it is with my job, and everything."

"Uh-huh... I mean, yeah," Julian replied brainlessly. "Definitely..."

That night, Julian's thoughts raced, and as a result, his sleep was intermittent and fragile. Over and over, he reviewed the plan that Loki had devised, but as his eyelids grew heavier, he found himself forgetting details, and _every_ detail was important. He thought of each and every flaw in the plot, whether real or imagined, and he fretted over them until it all became too much. He wanted to confide in someone – he knew he couldn't go to Loki with his concerns – but that would have to wait until everything was said and done.

Eventually, he willed himself to sleep. Two hours later, he awoke, groggy, to the sound of his phone's alarm. He didn't dare press "snooze." He proceeded immediately to the bathroom to shower, brush his teeth, and get his hair under control. It didn't take him long to get himself dressed and ready, so he went downstairs to wait for his father in the living room.

Minutes later, Loki appeared on the stairs, still looking like himself, dressed in a suit and tie with his hair pulled back. "Shall we?" he asked.

Julian nodded, though he still wasn't sure he was ready.

Loki first cast the shroud of invisibility over Julian, then drew his own disguise over himself. Julian felt a twinge of discomfort at the thought that Loki was so easily able to usurp his appearance and identity.

"And your identification?" Loki reminded him as they walked out into the driveway.

Julian handed his wallet off to his clone, then hopped into the passenger's seat. Loki started the car, and without another word, they were off.

The first leg of the trip went by quickly – Julian passed the time running through the plan in his head once more – but as the scenery outside the windows grew more familiar, increasingly illuminated in the intensifying sunlight, he became sick to his stomach. To a certain extent, the nervousness was expected, but the circumstances of this visit were different. Momentarily, Julian questioned whether he could trust Loki with his mother's safety and future, but he dismissed those misgivings before they could settle into his psyche. It was too late to turn back, and besides, who else was there to trust?

They parked in the visitors' lot, and in the interest of avoiding suspicion, Loki circled to the passenger's side, opened Julian's door, and pretended to search for something while his son stepped out of the vehicle. Julian followed him closely as they approached the gate. As usual, a buzz and a click told them when to enter. Inside, there was George, manning the security checkpoint.

"Hey, little man."

Julian almost slipped; he opened his mouth to respond before he realized that George's greeting was directed at Loki.

"Good morning," Loki, as Julian, responded. He didn't say another word as he prepared to step through the metal detector.

"You alright, kid? " George asked. "You're awful quiet today."

"I am quite well," Loki replied brusquely.

It quickly became apparent to Julian that he hadn't adequately explained the dynamic between George and himself prior to their arrival.

"_Right_," George said. "Well, if ya wanna talk, you know where to find me."

Loki nodded silently, cutting the conversation short, and joined the other visitors anxiously waiting to see their loved ones. Julian took care not to bump anyone and alert them to his presence, but as the small waiting area filled with more and more visiting relatives, this became challenging. By the time the door opened, he found himself flattened against a wall, and he waited for most of the others to file into the room before he proceeded inside.

Julian spotted his mother almost immediately, and the same must have been true for Loki, as he walked a straight line directly to her table. As he needed to wait for a way into the rest of the prison to open itself to him, Julian knew he wouldn't have much time to listen in on their conversation, but he went out of his way to pass by them on his way to wait a short distance away from the corrections officer beside the interior door. He heard his mother congratulate Loki-in-disguise on his graduation, saw her hug him, and then, he was out of earshot.

He stood still and quiet near the officer and waited. Just as he was about to steal a glance at his parents, another guard entered the visitation room from the inside of the complex. Quickly, and taking care not to touch either of the two officers, Julian extended his leg and jammed the door open with his foot. Of this, the second officer took notice.

"What the... is the door busted?" she muttered.

She opened the door wider, testing its hinges, and Julian seized the opportunity to pass through. At that very moment, however, the officer slammed the door shut, catching Julian's last three fingers. With his other hand, he covered his mouth to stifle a shout. He winced and panted into his palm as he extricated his digits from between the heavy door and its frame.

"Damn thing won't close!"

On the officer's third attempt, the door closed and latched, and Julian found himself alone in a quiet hallway with light-yellow walls and scuffed linoleum flooring. He half-expected to enter into a cellblock, but that part must have been lodged deeper within the walls of the institution. Instead, this corridor was home to offices and classrooms, most of which seemed to be empty. He tiptoed toward the far end of the hallway, turning his head to read the placards beside the doors.

He had begun to suspect that he was in the wrong place, but then, he found the room labeled "Law Library."

"_There_ you are," Julian whispered to himself.

His excitement urged him to reach out and open the door, but before he did, he looked around, over his left shoulder and right, to be sure that he was, indeed, alone. His hand trembled as he placed his fingers on the doorknob – finally, he would see where his mother spent most of her days – but when he gave it a yank, he realized that it was locked.

Julian sighed. Again, he would have to wait, and he couldn't bear to do that for much longer. He sat down on the floor and slumped against the wall beside the library door. He was too anxious to keep still, but every time he moved, especially if the soles of his sneakers rubbed against the tile beneath him, the small sounds echoed in the vastness of the facility.

It must have been lonely inside.

For over an hour, Julian traced the cracks and chips in the yellow paint with his eyes. He wondered what compelled the Department of Corrections – or whoever was responsible – to choose that particular shade of varnish. It was as if they had been contemplating something cheerful in the interest of keeping the peace but eventually settled on the color of stomach acid, either by mistake or out of malicious intent to mock the prison's inhabitants. No one would have chosen that paint for a home of the same size. In its sheer quantity, Julian found it nauseating. He couldn't let his mother stare at it for another day. He had been there for less than a day, but his mother, judging by the condition of the walls, had been surrounded by that shade of yellow for almost twenty years. Perhaps it was silly that it affected his judgment to such a degree, but it only entrenched Julian's conviction more deeply: he _would_ set his mother free.

Finally, he heard the door leading in from the visitation room creak open again, and he watched as the corrections officers escorted the prisoners in. At the end of the line, he saw her.

"Can I just go to the library now?" Elise asked one of the officers as they walked. "I don't see any point in going back to my cell if I'm just going to come back in a few minutes, you know? It seems like a waste of time."

The officer pulled up his sleeve, checked his watch, and shrugged. "I guess so," he groaned. "But we aren't gonna make this a regular thing, okay?"

"Thank you," Elise replied sincerely. "Thank you so much."

"Yeah, yeah," the officer said as he fumbled with his keys. "I'll be right outside when you're done."

The officer unlocked the library and held the door while Julian's mother passed through the entrance. Julian slipped inside, and for the first time in his life, he was truly alone with her. No guards, no inmates, no other visitors competing for space. Just the two of them.

Julian watched silently as his mother made a beeline for one of the shelves. She crouched down and dragged her finger along the spines of the seemingly-identical books as she hunted for one in particular. When she located it, she smiled like a little girl. She opened it and began reading before she even sat down at the long table in the center of the room; she must have been too excited about its contents to wait.

For a moment more, Julian let her read in peace. Here, she seemed serene and in her element. The scene sharply contrasted the tension that hung in the air during their time-restricted visits. He almost couldn't bear to interrupt her.

Almost.

Julian stepped slowly toward her and didn't stop until he was close enough to touch her. He cleared his throat before he spoke.

"Mom?"

Elise gasped and slammed the book shut. In the split second before she started screaming, Julian reacted, covering her mouth with his palm.

"_Shh_, Mom, it's okay. It's me." He took care to keep his voice low through the initial excitement. "I need you to just... relax, okay? Can you do that?"

She hesitated, seemingly frozen, but then, she mumbled into Julian's hand: "Mm-hm."

As soon as he let go, and before he could explain himself, Julian's mother whipped around in her chair, searched for him, and, finding nothing, became frustrated.

"_Julian Nicholas McNaughton_," she scolded in a tense whisper, "if that's really you, you need to get out of here _this instant_."

"Mom, it's fine," Julian assured her. "I'm invisible, see? They'll never know I was here."

"_Invisible_? Julian, that's ridiculous. You're eighteen years old. Stop playing imagination games."

"I'm serious," he quietly insisted. "It's a long story, but basically... uh..."

"Don't say 'uh,'" Elise scolded. "Filler words make you sound-"

"I'm here to help you," Julian blurted. "We're gonna get you out of here."

"_We_?" Her hushed voice rose to a stage whisper. "Who's 'we?'"

"Me and dad. It's okay. He said-"

"Your _father_? How did you... I told you to..." She sighed, deeply frustrated. "_Julian_!"

"Mom, I swear, it's fine," said Julian. "He just wants to help."

"He _never_ 'just wants to help.' How many times do I have to tell you that?" She sighed again. "Did you even think this through?"

"Just trust me. We're gonna get out of here."

"And just how do you think we're gonna do _that_?"

Julian responded by waving his hand to conjure a small fire. His heart pounded and his hands trembled as he held the flames to one of the shelves of books.

"Don't you _dare_," Elise whispered. "Don't even _think_ about-"

It was too late – the deed was done. The _Federal Reporter_ ignited quickly, and soon, the fire spread to the hard wood of the shelf that had housed it. The thin pages of the books produced dark clouds of smoke as they burned, and Julian worried that an alarm would soon sound, alerting the officer outside to the fire before it could spread and grow to a size warranting an evacuation. He lit another stack ablaze and watched as the flames crawled up one of the walls. Now, he feared that things were progressing _too_ quickly.

"_Julian_!" Elise screamed. "What are you _doing_?"

As expected, the smoke detector reacted, and soon after, the sprinklers activated. The water did little to diminish the fire, and as it spread, the room began to crumble around them.

The door swung open, and the corrections officer shouted his orders into the room. "Come on, get outta there!" He then ran down the corridor, coughing and covering his nose and mouth with his forearm.

Elise seemed to be frozen with fear, so Julian grabbed her wrist and pulled her with him out of the room. In the hall, Julian realized the full extent of the damage he had done; within a few minutes, the blaze had spread, engulfing half of the hallway and rapidly extending its reach. The inmates who had just returned from the visitation room made for that exit, and corrections staff pushed past them to evacuate. At the center of the chaos, Julian stood still, his hand still wrapped around his mother's arm, trying desperately to recall the planned route that would lead him to the meeting place Loki had decided on.

"Julian, let's _go,_ please," Elise pleaded. "We have to go _now_!"

Julian observed that the doors to the offices on the sides of the corridor had opened. He led Elise into the one nearest the interior of the complex, shut the door, and located the window.

"Oh my God," his mother exclaimed. She was panicking. "Oh my God, no, no, no..."

Determined to escape before the fire devoured the office, Julian removed his shirt, wrapped the fabric around his fist, and punched at the glass. He cleared the shards from the exit and pushed the metal desk against the wall below it.

"Out the window," he instructed as he climbed atop the desk. "Hurry!"

Julian hoisted himself up and outside, falling down onto the grass His mother soon followed, landing on top of him. They got to their feet, and Julian started toward the designated meeting place.

"Julian!" Elise cried out. "I can't see you! Where did you go?"

"Over here!" he shouted. "Follow my voice!"

Once she had caught up to him, he grasped her hand, and they ran.

"We won't be able to get out," Elise panted. "There's a fence!"

"We thought of that, don't worry."

As planned, at the rear of the facility, Loki had already broken down a section of the chain-link fence and cleared the barbed wire that would have obstructed their path. Julian smiled, though he knew his mother couldn't see his face. They were going to make it. Loki had followed through after all.

"Don't stop now," Julian breathed. "Almost there!"

Beyond the fence, there was a field, and beyond that, there were woods. They slowed down and began to walk along a creek, the natural landmark that would lead them to the road.

As Elise caught her breath, she began to protest. "Are you _crazy_? Don't you know _you_ could go to jail for this? I have to go back. I have to turn myself in."

"_You're_ the one who's going crazy," said Julian. "You're free. We did it. Aren't you happy?"

"_No_!" Elise yelled. "I'm _furious_! This wasn't your battle to fight. This was _my_ battle."

"You're my mom! Your problem _is_ my problem!"

"Not this one." Without warning, she stopped walking. "Where are we going?"

"To the car," Julian answered matter-of-factly. "We're going home."

"_Whose_ home?"

"Dad's, obviously."

The color drained from Elise's face; she was trembling, and she clasped her hands together as if she were praying. "No," she breathed, shaking her head. "I can't... I can't do that."

"Of course you can."

The disembodied voice belonged to Loki. No longer wearing Julian's skin, he appeared, becoming tangible before their eyes.

Finally, Elise's legs buckled beneath her, and she cradled her face in her hands.


	8. Confrontation

Now without the benefit of invisibility, the confused and stunned expression on Julian's face must have been plain to see as he watched his mother react to Loki.

"_Nineteen years_!" she screamed. "You had me locked up for _nineteen years_!"

"I missed you as well," Loki replied sarcastically. "Now, get up off the ground. That is just... unsightly."

"The only good thing about it was that I never had to see _you_ again," Elise said as she stood up. "You couldn't even let me have _that_, could you?"

"Now, now, Elise," said Loki. "We must not dwell on the past."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Elise snapped. "You think I'm just gonna _forget_ everything?"

Julian felt the need to interject. "Aren't you overreacting a little? Whatever happened, it's been a long time."

"You should never have gotten involved, Julie." She sounded profoundly disappointed. "I don't think you understand what you've done."

"Then tell him," Loki challenged. "What _has_ he done?"

"We are _not_ going to talk about that in front of him," said Elise. "Don't even start."

"Look," Julian said. "I _know_ I could get arrested. I get how serious this is, but I don't care. I don't think Dad does, either. We just want you to come home. We could be a family."

"_He_ isn't a part of this family," Elise said. "You and I are _always_ family, no matter how long I'm in prison, but he will _never_ be a part of that."

"Elise, why must you be so cruel?" Loki said, placing his hands over his heart. "We have given you freedom, and you would disown us?"

"Not Julian," Elise clarified. "Just _you_. And you know why." With that, she turned and started back toward the burning prison. "I have to get back."

"Mom, wait!" He ran ahead of her to cut off her path. "Can't you just give this a chance?"

"I'm sorry, Julie, I really am," she said, "but there is way more to this than you can ever possibly understand."

"You keep saying I won't understand," Julian argued, "but I'm _eighteen_, and I've already been through a _lot_ for someone my age. And I'm _smart_. You don't have to protect me from stuff like this."

"But I _do_," said Elise. "It's my _job_ to protect you."

"But how are you going to do that if you're in there? I mean, you tried to 'protect' me from Dad, but here he is."

Elise stared at the ground.

"Mom," Julian continued, "can you just _try_ to make this work? I mean, just come with us, stay the night, and if it doesn't feel right, you can turn yourself in in the morning. Okay? Please?"

Elise looked to Loki, then back to Julian. Her eyes seemed to search his face for something they couldn't find. She inhaled a deep breath, then exhaled her reluctant answer: "Alright."

"Come, then," said Loki. "We shall continue this discussion on the way."

He extended his hand to Elise, but she swatted it away.

"Not a chance in hell," she hissed.

In response, Loki just smirked. "How _sweet_."

With Elise in the back seat, they headed toward home. There was a long lull in conversation, but just as Julian was about to take it upon himself to break the ice, Loki beat him to it.

"Tell me, Elise," he said, "how did you pass the time while you were away?"

"You mean for the past _two decades_?" Elise replied, crossing her arms and sulking.

"Nineteen years is but a brief episode," said Loki.

"A _brief episode_? Look at me! I'm forty-five years old!"

"And you look as lovely now as you did then."

"You can feed me all the lines you want," Elise snarled, "but it's not gonna work now. I'm a different person."

"As am I," Loki said, his tone steady and his eyes on the road ahead of him. "I am prepared to make amends, to take responsibility for this family. Our son can attest to that."

"_My_ son," Elise corrected. "You don't get to call us 'family.'"

"He's _my_ family," Julian interjected.

"How can you say that?" asked his mother, clearly hurt.

"Mom, I didn't have anywhere else to go," Julian answered, frustrated at her stubbornness. "What was I supposed to do? It's not like I could've called you and asked you to come pick me up when they threw me out of the house."

Elise exhaled a jagged breath, and her eyes filled with tears. Julian could tell that she was struggling to keep her composure, and he felt terrible for having hurt her feelings.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean it like that, but it's just... it's true, you know? And that's why we had to get you out of there. We have to stick together. And besides, Dad really wants to make things right with both of us."

"This is true," Loki confirmed. "We have held onto this grudge for far too long."

"I need to think," Elise muttered. "I can't... just let me think."

Eventually, Loki pulled the car into a parking lot belonging to a Chinese restaurant. Almost immediately, Julian could sense that his mother was panicking again. Loki's omission of any explanation whatsoever didn't help matters any.

"Why?" Elise asked nervously. "What are we doing here?"

"We are here to pick up our lunch," Loki replied. "What _else_ would we be doing here?"

Inside, Loki placed a take-out order for everyone, and as he and Julian waited, having left Elise in the car, neither of them spoke. It wasn't the joyous reunion Julian had hoped for, but it was mundane, and that was enough. Maybe it was enough for his parents, too. Julian knew that his mother would likely need time to adjust to the new living arrangement, but he was too excited for their first family dinner to worry. At last, everything was coming together.

When their order was ready, they returned to the car with the food and continued – still silent – toward the house. Julian's parents' refusal to speak to one another was becoming a bit unsettling, and their arrival home came as a relief.

"I'll go set the table," Julian offered just before he leapt from the passenger's seat, turning back only to retrieve the plastic bags of food. He carried them through the front door and rushed to the kitchen, expecting to find that room empty. Instead, Kiki was there, with her nose pressed to the table, which was covered in a fine coat of white dust.

"Oh, you're still here," Julian muttered, disappointed to see her. "Don't you have somewhere better to be?"

She jerked her head back up, sniffed, and said, "I don't have a job anymore, so... nope." Her eyes watered, and she rubbed dripping mascara from beneath them. "Where's Loki?"

Just then, he and Elise appeared. When Kiki spotted them, she starting laughing, not gleefully, but in a way that was both playful and sinister. "Look who it is!"

"Oh, come _on_!" Elise groaned. "What the hell is _she_ doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" Kiki snarled, stepping toward her.

Loki put his hand around Kiki's upper arm and pulled her away before she could attack. "Go back upstairs," he instructed her. "This does not concern you."

"Yes it _does_!" Kiki screeched. "You can't just bring her around here like-"

Without warning, Loki shoved her, and her body hit the kitchen counter with a thud, rattling the doors of the cabinets.

"_Go_," he growled. "Now."

Kiki was visibly shaken, and her demeanor immediately changed. "Okay, I'm... I'm going, sorry."

She slunk out of the room, and shortly thereafter, Julian heard a door slam upstairs.

Elise, similarly distraught, fell into one of the chairs at the table. "My son is surrounded by coked-up prostitutes," she breathed. "I failed. I failed at being a parent."

"I believe she prefers to call herself a 'dancer,'" said Loki.

"Of course she does," Elise mumbled, increasingly incoherent in her distress. "Of course..."

Julian unraveled a section of paper towel form the roll, dampened it under the faucet, and cleared the cocaine from the table. "I know it looks bad," he said, "but I swear, everything's fine here."

Elise just nodded and stared, catatonic, at the wall.

As promised, Julian set the table, then served his parents before serving himself. He noticed his mother's hand trembling each time she lifted her plastic fork to feed herself. She didn't look good.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned.

"Uh-huh..." She set her utensil down and stared into her dinner.

"I, for one, am overjoyed," Loki announced. "To have you back, Elise, after so very long, is a gift."

"Shut up." Her voice was hushed; it was as if her speech was on autopilot.

"Pardon?" said Loki, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes.

Elise perked up, snapping back to attention. "Nothing," she replied quickly, shoveling another piece of chicken into her mouth.

"Why so quiet?" Loki asked. "Is there nothing you would like to say to me?"

"No..."

"Nothing at all?" he pressed. "Not a word? Not an expression of gratitude?"

Elise remained silent.

Julian felt that he had to do something to defray the tension. "So, Mom, what are you gonna do now that you're out? Are you excited?"

"I don't know," she muttered. She played with her food, pushing it around with her fork. "I'm just... tired, I think. Where can I go to sleep?"

"But Mom, it's so early."

Loki answered her question. "Regrettably, I am unable to offer you a room of your own. You will stay with me, and Kiki will sleep over there." He nodded his head to gesture toward the couch in the living room.

"With you?" Elise questioned. "In... in your room?"

"Yes," said Loki, as though the answer were obvious.

"In the same bed?"

"Of course."

"Julian," she asked, "where's your room?"

"It's upstairs, first door on the right," he said.

Without another word, Elise stood, pushing her chair away, and drifted out of the kitchen.

"This is unacceptable," Loki uttered through gritted teeth.

"It's okay, Dad, just let it go," said Julian. "It's been a long day for her. She's probably beat."

"No," he said, getting to his feet. "Excuse me for a moment."

Julian heard Loki's heavy footsteps on each step as he made his way upstairs in pursuit of Elise. The house was quiet for a moment, but then, from his seat at the table, he heard his mother's scream and the sound of Loki's fist banging against the bedroom door. He rushed to the bottom of the stairs to listen, just in case his intervention was needed.

"_Please_ go away!" Elise wailed. "Please, just leave me alone!"

"Open this door, you ungrateful woman!" Loki shouted. "This is _my_ home, and you shall do as I command!"

"_Please_, Loki," she pleaded loudly, sobbing. "Don't make me... _ah_!"

When he heard the cracking and splintering of wood, Julian bolted up the stairs, but his body stopped him. Again, he could feel his blood turning to ice, stabbing at his muscle and skin. He doubled over in the middle of the staircase, immobilized as he transformed. Every sound that struck his eardrum hurt, but his mother's shrieking could have killed him. He forced himself to keep moving. By the time he reached the room, pieces of the broken door were strewn throughout the hall, and Loki had Elise pinned by her wrists, face-down against the mattress.

"She has gone mad," Loki said, his voice echoing strangely in Julian's ears. "She must be restrained."

"Julie, _get out_!" Elise screamed, half-muffled by the pillows. "_Go_!"

With the world around him hazy and red, Julian became confused and unable to act. Without an outlet for his rage, the pain grew, and soon, the corners of his field of vision became tinged with black. He bashed the doorframe with his fist, again and again, but it did little to abet his frenzied state. This time, it was worse, like nothing he had ever experienced. An immense pressure swelled in his chest, and with one last gasping breath, he fell unconscious.

* * *

"Come on, Julian."

"Please wake up, Julie..."

The voices belonged to two women, and as their faces came into focus, Julian recognized both of them. His mother knelt beside him, and beside her, Alexis.

"Where did you...? _Ouch_..." Julian's own words seemed to bounce against the walls of his skull.

"Kiki called me," Alexis explained. "I, um... I know first aid. Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Julian sighed. "This is embarrassing." When he sat up, he realized how sore he was. Everything ached.

"Julie, this isn't normal," Elise said. "We have to get you to a doctor."

When Julian looked more closely at his mother, he noticed dark bruises on her forearms. "But, Mom, are _you_ okay?" he asked.

"I'm just fine," she sighed. "Your father was right. I was overreacting."

"But you're-"

"I'm _fine_," she assured him, "but _you_ need a doctor."

"Not just any doctor." Alexis stood and walked toward Julian's dresser, on top of which he had left the envelope containing Bruce Banner's letter. "Elise, remember The Hulk?"

"Of course," she said. "Everyone remembers The Hulk."

"Doesn't this look kind of like that?" Alexis said, returning with the envelope. "Like, he'd get angry, and he'd turn into some kind of... rage monster? Maybe _he_ can help."

"Maybe," said Elise. "But how would we even contact him?"

Alexis handed her the letter. "Look at this."

As Elise read, her eyes widened, and although her face was partially obscured from Julian's view by the paper, he thought he saw her smile. "Julie!" she cried joyfully. "You did it! You got a scholarship!"

"But I didn't _do_ anything," he said. "I didn't even apply."

"I mean, that's good and all," said Alexis, "but the point is, this means Julian's gonna get to meet Doctor Banner."

"Hold on," said Julian. "I wasn't actually gonna _go_ to that."

"Yes you _are_," Elise insisted. "There's no way you're passing up an opportunity like that!"

"But Dad's not okay with it."

"...Oh." That excuse seemed to be enough for her.

"Maybe I can convince him," Alexis suggested. "I don't know if he'll listen, but it wouldn't hurt to try, right?"

"Oh, honey, no, don't lower yourself to that," said Elise. "You seem like one of the good ones. You don't want to end up like Kiki, do you?"

"Oh my God, _ew_!" Alexis squeaked. "I _totally_ didn't mean it like that. I was just gonna talk to him. Now that you mention it, though..."

Elise just gawked at her, mortified.

"I was _kidding_!" she laughed. "You're _really_ freaked-out by strippers, aren't you?"

"I'm sorry," said Elise. "This is just... a lot to process."

"But what if you can't convince him?" asked Julian. "What happens then?"

"Well," said Alexis, "I guess he'll just have to not find out."

Elise shook her head quickly and lowered her voice. "That won't work. He'll _know_."

"How's he gonna know?" Alexis asked.

"I don't know," Elise whispered anxiously, "but trust me. He knows these things."

"You don't have to whisper," said Alexis. "He's not here."

"Where'd he go?" Julian asked.

Alexis shrugged. "He had some business to take care of, I guess."

Elise frowned. "What kind of business?"

"Just, y'know," Alexis replied, dancing around the answer. "Business. Meeting with people, taking care of 'em... business."

"That sounds... shady," Elise fretted. "Julian, do you know anything about this?"

"Nope," he lied. "No idea."

Alexis changed the subject. "Anyway, Julian, you should probably get some rest, and I should probably get going to work."

"Are you sure you can't stay?" he asked. "I'd, um... really like it if you would."

"Sorry," she said, "but I can't. Loki would kill me."

Julian nodded. "Okay. I guess I'll see you later then."

A moment later, she was gone. Elise helped Julian up, then sat down beside him on his bed and said the words that no one ever wants to hear: "We need to talk."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"What you did today was _really_ stupid, Julian," she said. "You can't let him talk you into things like that. Someone could have been killed. Someone probably _did_ get killed."

"I _know_, Mom," he groaned. He didn't regret what he had done, and, perhaps selfishly, he felt that the ends justified the means. He knew that the execution of the plan left a lot to be desired, but he didn't need to hear it from her.

"What's done is done," Elise went on, "but we have to figure out where we'll go from here, and I wanted to talk to you about..." She trailed off. "We have to talk about what you'll do if anything happens to me."

"Don't say stuff like that," said Julian. "Nothing's gonna happen to you. You're gonna be okay."

"No," Elise replied. "You're wrong. I didn't want you getting caught up in the middle of this... ugly thing going on between Loki and I. I still don't want you to. But you're here now, so we have to address it. First of all, never, _ever_ try to stand between us if it looks like... if it looks like something's about to happen. I'm not saying anything's _going_ to happen, but I can't be sure if he's really changed any, so... just in case."

"Mom, that's ridiculous," said Julian. "He wouldn't-"

"You don't _think_ he would," his mother snapped. "It's not enough to _think_ he wouldn't..." Again, her voice wavered, and she swallowed hard before she went on. "Look, Julie, I'm not saying this just to scare you, or to make you feel bad, or to turn you against your father. I'm just being practical."

"That's not practical!" Julian exclaimed, offended at her lack of trust in his judgment. "You're being paranoid!"

"_Shh_, be quiet," Elise cautioned. "He could be back any minute, and I still have to tell you..."

Their conversation was cut short by the sound of someone – presumably Loki – opening and shutting the house's front door below. Soon, the stairs could be heard creaking.

"Shit, _shit_," Elise muttered, obviously frustrated. "He's coming, isn't he?"

"Probably, but don't worry," Julian replied. "Everything's okay, and besides, I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

"What did I _just_ tell you?" Elise said, her voice hushed but forceful. "_Do not_ put yourself in the middle of this, whatever you do."

Seconds later, Loki was at the bedroom door. He wore a frown, but the anger was gone from his expression.

"Hey, Dad," Julian greeted awkwardly. "What's up?"

His father ignored him. "I trust that you have come to your senses, Elise."

She nodded slowly in response.

"Good," Loki said. "Then go to sleep now. There are certain matters I must discuss with my son."

"Okay," said Elise, "but what about-"

"Kiki knows better than to contradict me," Loki preempted. "If she refuses to leave, then I shall throw her out. Now, _go_."

Without questioning further or looking him in the eye, Elise drifted out of the room and down the hall. Loki closed the door behind her.

"Have you told her about our 'family business?'" he asked.

"No," Julian answered. "I didn't think I was supposed to."

Loki folded his arms across his chest and gazed at nothing in particular. "She shall learn the truth soon enough... as will you."

Julian was confused. "I already know about the drugs, though."

"The drugs?" Loki chuckled. "You underestimate me, my son. This is more than mere commerce." He locked the door and lowered his voice such that he was nearly inaudible from where he stood. "This is the beginning of a legacy, one that you shall inherit."

"A legacy?"

"Yes," Loki said. "Midgard shall be my kingdom, and someday, yours."

"Oh, wow." Perhaps his father really _was_ losing his mind. "That's, um... I don't know if I'm ready for that."

"You will be, when the time comes," Loki assured him. "For now, all you must do is assist me as I set this in motion. Will you do that, my son?"

Julian had a bad feeling about whatever it was that Loki was suggesting, but he felt obligated to comply. "Sure," he said. "Whatever you need."


End file.
